


Red Bird

by SavageNutella46



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: :D, Adrien is sooooo ooc I couldn’t help it I’m sorry I love making him the bad guy, Child Abuse, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Jason Todd is Robin, Not Canon Compliant, TEA GOALS, This has intimate detailing of child abuse so if you get triggered by that please don’t read, Tim Drake is Robin, Unreliable Narrator, Until he dies, i don’t want to make anyone sad yo, marinette is a sad little gal, only has one friend lol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:15:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 32,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25275289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SavageNutella46/pseuds/SavageNutella46
Summary: Marinette is a poor young girl living in Gotham who spends her time designing when she isn't getting bullied. Gotham Academy can only do so much to rich kids bullying a scholarship student. Which is nothing. Thanks for that, by the way.Jason is a troubled boy yet to have gone a day without punching someone over something he can't control: his past. Can Marinette help him in his path to getting better? Or will he get more reckless and lose everything along the way?
Relationships: Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug/Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 246
Kudos: 390





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Marinette is sixteen in this, while Jason is seventeen. I know Jason dies when he’s fifteen but I’m just gonna move up the timeline a little bit. Just so we’re clear, Jason did not die. (Yet.)
> 
> Also this is in no way relevant, but Willis Todd knew Lady Shiva. I did not know that.
> 
> If anyone has any further questions, feel free to ask in the comments. I love when I receive comments!

Marinette did not consider herself a religious person, but so help her God, if one more person used her dented locker as a surface to slam her up against, she was _going_ to cut a bitch.

An unnamed rich heir slammed her up against the locker,—a shocker, I _know_ — pinning her shaking arms beside her head as he dipped down to whisper in her ear, "Gotcha bitch, did you think you could run away?"

  
He and his goons had been bullying her for the entirety of her scholarship at Gotham Academy, making it exceptionally hard for her to make friends, but she had one, as sad as the number seemed.

Allen Hall was his name, and reading was his game. He had quite literally bumped into her in the intimidating halls of Gotham Academy one day, profusely apologized for making her life a little more complicated that day, and she took him out to grab a smoothie, her way of telling him: "No, I don't hate you. Shut up and be my friend."

Allen had gotten her into classic literature, the little sneak, claiming to be an "old soul" and dragging her to the library every Wednesday. He was unfortunately in Bali for the week, so he left her at the mercy of her bullies everyday. _Yay, her._

Marinette struggled against his hold, wincing at the bruise-forming grip on her arms. "What did I ever do to you?" Her voice cracked over her weak voice. Surely when you're in the arms of utter mercy, your attacker would be so pathetic to release you? She continuously was forced to be on edge all hours of the day, waiting for a possible attack. Here it was, right after the last class of the day while she was merely attempting to gather her books from her locker and leave.

Alex—she remembered his name, now—chuckled. "It's only natural that people bully the scholarship student, so why not me, right, nerd?" The people around them laughed, and Marinette felt her face flush with embarrassment. She didn't know when they'd gathered a peanut gallery, but she wanted to get out of their view as fast as possible.

Suddenly, he released her arms from his hold. She sighed in relief, only to have her face burst in pain. He'd punched her. She heard more laughing as she fell to her knees and cradled her cheek, quietly groaning from the inflamed sensation.

_Fuck, that one hurt_.

She was so caught up in her own pain and misery that she didn't even notice when everyone had stopped laughing. She slowly looked up, and saw a tall figure punching her bully in the face, right where he had punched Marinette.

Serves him right, she thought.

He suddenly whipped his head around to face her, and only then she recognized the face of her savior.

Jason Todd. The boy was in the grade above her, but that didn't stop her from recognizing him, oh, no. Everyone knew him because of his adoptive father and his rebellious streak.

That didn't stop him from looking like a piece of hot metal, though. Damn, he was _smoking_. Smoking _hot_. Also smoked cigarettes, but that didn't matter. She often saw the boy leaned up against the wall, blowing out a puff of steam, his hair casting shadows over his face. It made him look even more mysterious—and handsome—than he had been dubbed.

She definitely did _not_ gasp when his eyes found hers, pressing her back against the locker as he walked over and kneeled before her.

"Hey, are you okay?" He asked. He was talking to her, she needed to respond.

Now.

"Um, uh, yes! I'm fine!" She stuttered out, shaking her head in embarrassment, she gathered up her things from the floor.

He chuckled at her expression and reached out a hand to help her gather her things, stopping when he found her book. Jason studied it with thoughtful eyes. "Wuthering Heights?"

She looked down at her book and back up at him. "Oh, yeah. I'm a stickler for classic literature." She laughed awkwardly, clutching her books a little tighter, like a shield.

His eyes lightened and he smiled at her, extending a hand. "Me too. Maybe we can talk about it sometime?"

He was offering to hang out with her. He was offering to hang out with her while also offering a hand to help her up. He wasn't pushing her up against a wall or punching her, either. That was good. She grinned and eagerly accepted the hand before her. On then, when she stood up, did she realize their height difference. He seemed to notice it too.

"Holy cow, you're cute, like a little pixie." He laughed, putting a hand on her shoulder. She blushed at the compliment, though quickly realized he was jabbing at her height.

"Not everyone is as tall as you, giraffe."

He laughed a little harder, putting his free hand on his stomach. It fascinated her, she had never made anyone laugh other than Allen. Not even her own mother—not like her parents had time for her anyway. They ran their bakery almost twenty-four-seven to make up for their inconvenient placement three blocks from Park Row.

She was aware she must look like a gaping fish, but Jason payed no mind to her facial expression as he flashed his teeth at her in a charming smile. "Tomorrow? I'll meet you in the library after school."

She nodded as fast as her head could go. "O-of course! S-see you! T-tomorrow!" He removed the hand from her shoulder, much to her disappointment, and winked. "See ya, pixie."

He left her to stare after his figure, walking away.

She shook her head. No time for distractions, she could lose her scholarship. She quickly hurried home to her parents bakery.

As soon as she stepped through the door, she could hear the bustling of costumers and her parents. "Marinette! Hi sweetie!" Her mother called out behind the cash register. Sabine’s hair was pulled into a messy bun, several strands sticking out, as was her apron messy and blotched with stains.

"Hello, maman." She waved, distantly.

"Could you go to the store and get a dozen eggs? We're short for a recipe we have to get done by tomorrow.” She didn’t spare a glance for her daughter. “Thank you! Moneys on the counter." She gave one last distracted smile before going back to processing another purchase from the customer in front of her.

She sighed, and put her backpack down in the living room, exiting to grab the money from the counter.

She quickly walked down to the grocery store, mindful of the dark alleyways. She could never be too careful, especially a person her size in Gotham.

Still, she didn’t look around too much. People and thugs alike got the wrong idea when you stared too much, and she’ll forever hold that close to her.

Even with the dead silence on the street, it had her skin crawling with apprehension and fear for whatever may lurk in the vast shadows. Marinette breathed a sigh of relief when she finally reached the grocery store doors.

If she had spent two hours cleaning up a mess of cereal and trying to find the eggs, she would never admit it. It was dark out when she finally emerged from the grocery store. Marinette groaned, as she would have to be extra careful tonight around the dangerous parts of the street.

Unfortunately, she hadn't prayed correctly, because she had spent exactly five minutes walking, when a hand wrapped around her wrist, and yanked her into the alley and making her drop the eggs set oh-so carefully in her hands.

"My eggs!" She groaned, ignoring her deep flinch atthe fact that she was being pinned up against a jagged wall for the second time today. "I hope you have some extra cash, mister! They might've broken." She glared at him.

The man froze. "Your...eggs?" His hands were making her shoulders dig uncomfortably into the alley wall, undoubtedly piercing the skin underneath her uniform shirt.

"Could you let me go, please? My maman is going to get worried." She widened her eyes. Maybe if she could charm her way it of this sucker, he'd be distracted enough to let her roundhouse-kick him in the nuts.

The man shook his head, grinning maliciously. He grabbed Marinette’s head and threw it into the wall, making her see stars behind her dark eyelids. She groaned loudly from the dizzy feeling.

Marinette was then made vaguely aware of the man getting violently torn off of her, and thrown into the opposite wall.

Marinette groaned again, clutching at her head. She watched as the man was tied up and the cops called. Her apparent savior walked over and put a hand on her shoulder. "Are you okay, miss? Your head looks pretty bad." She looked up through her blurry vision. and saw a traffic light.

"Why the hell is a traffic light talking to me?" She whimpered, almost to herself. The traffic light chuckled, and her vision cleared enough to see that no, it wasn't a traffic light, and yes, it was Batman's sidekick, Robin. Her eyes widened. "Oh gosh! I'm so sorry!" She almost slurred, feeling the effects of the wall take place in her coherency.

"No need to apologize, Miss. Can I carry you home? You don’t look in any condition to walk."

She nodded, and he picked her up bridal style. Only then Did she realize she forgot about her eggs. She tapped his chest. "Wait, I-my eggs! I need to take them home!" Robin looked over at the crushed eggs on the ground and traveled his gaze back to her. "I don't think they're in the condition to be taken home." He deadpanned.

She took a look at them. "Oh. Right." She laughed awkwardly. He grinned at her and launched them outside the alley with his cool grappling gun. "So, where do you live?" He asked.

She looked down from where they were. "Uh, Tom and Sabine's Boulangerie and Patisserie."

She looked at the structure of his face. He had high cheek bones, and she couldn’t exactly see beyond the whites of his mask, but she was sure the eyes beneath were worth waiting for.

His midnight hair framed his face beautifully, also graced with a contouring shadow, via the moon. He must've noticed her staring, because he looked over at her from the corner of his eye.

And winked.

She gulped loudly, quickly looking away. She was sure the rumbling of his chest meant that he was laughing at her embarrassment, but she couldn't bring herself to focus on anything due to her face gradually rising in temperature.

He grappled over to the bakery and dropped on the balcony. She climbed out of his hold and faced him. "Thanks, I don't know what would've happened if you hadn't been there." He frowned, eyes glazing over as if he was recalling something.

"Nothing good. Have a good night, Marinette." He grappled away, leaving her to her thoughts.

Marinette didn't recall telling him her name. but she had been very dizzy. She shook it off and walked inside the closed bakery. Her mother turned to her, noticing the absence of the eggs. Her face turned solemn. Muggers were not uncommon in Gotham, and her mother knew firsthand just how common it was to come home without what you sent out for.

"Are you okay?" She was grateful for the lack of questioning on the behalf of the eggs, and nodded. She excused herself and ran upstairs to squeal into her pillow. She had just met two equally hot guys, and they were both nice to her! That was a change, a good one. Maybe her life was turning over.

She gasped, sitting up on her bed.

Now she had remembered why she never approached Jason, even beyond her horrible social skills.

Lila Rossi, her other tormentor, had openly—non verbally—placed dibs on Jason Todd, constantly sweet talking him when he clearly didn't like her and always brushed her off like a fly. She was going to give her hell for being friends with him.

Whatever, she’d let the orange pest bully her a little more. Nothing she couldn't handle, especially if she had another friend. Marinette smiled at the thought.

A _friend_.

The morning rolled around too fast, having gotten little sleep due to her unfinished designs, Marinette definitely felt a change in the regular droop of her eyelids. She sighed and rolled on her Gotham Academy socks. She was certain the day was going to have many surprises, good and bad. She mentally prepared herself for the pushing and shoving she would endure that day, and grabbed her bag.

She was grabbing her textbook from her locker when she felt a presence beside her. Marinette turned to look at Adrien Agreste, her former boyfriend. He had proved himself to be a douche when she had found him kissing another girl. She still cried about it to this day, so what the hell was he doing at her locker?

"Marinette. How are you?" He looked at her through his lashes. Two years ago, she would've swooned at the sight of those bright green eyes. Now, they made her eyes hurt and her stomach churn with disgust.

"Agreste. Why are you talking to me?" She turned back to her locker, only to have him grab her chin, forcing her to look at him. "Ow! What the hell, Adrien? Let go." He grabbed her wrist, seemingly getting frustrated.

"Marinette, I miss you. Why'd you leave me?" He pouted, eyes sad and seemingly distraught.

She almost growled at the sheer audacity. Did he not see that he was hurting her?

"You cheated on me, remember, genius?" Marinette was so done with this conversation. She just wanted to leave before she was late to class, but Adrien was holding on to her like she was the last cup of water on earth, and yeah, it fucking hurt.

She heard a hand slam on the locker behind her. She flinched, turning her head around to be met with the face of a glowering Jason Todd. Only then she realized he was not glaring at her, but past her, at Adrien.

"She asked you to let go. Are you deaf?" His growl made her scared, albeit a little flattered.

Adriens hold on her tightened and she whimpered in pain. That was gonna leave a nasty bruise. "Jason Todd, how are you? Get into any fights lately?" He grinned. Jason scowled.

"I said, let her go."

Adrien released her and held his hands up. With one last look at Marinette, he walked away. She sighed and rubbed at her wrist, turning back to her locker. She jumped when she saw Jason still there, his glare softening when he took a look at her.

"Are you okay?" Why was everyone asking her that lately? "Yeah. Thank you. I guess I'm a trouble magnet." Jason grinned, reaching a hand to ruffle her hair.

"I have to get to class. I'm sure you do too, can I walk you?" Her eyes widened. Jason Todd was offering to walk her to class. Lila wasn't going to be happy, but she couldn't care less at the moment.

She nodded and he took her hand, rubbing her palm gently with his thumb as he walked her to Physics. She couldn't get the mad blush off her face, sporting it the entire class and then some.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason and Marinette just... talk.
> 
> Cameo from our favorite antagonist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: child abuse, mentions of child abuse, violence. Degrading thoughts kinda.

The rest of her morning classes passed by making her bored as hell without fail. Who needs trigonometry when you're studying to become a fashion designer? 

Lunch time rolled around and she migrated to the library, reading "Anna Karenina" by Leo Tolstoy, when a voice whispered in her ear. "Already done with Wuthering Heights?" She yelped, jumping with so much force she fell off of her chair.

Jason started snickering at her expense as he held out a hand to help her up. "Sorry, couldnt help myself. You looked so cute." She blushed and grabbed his warm hand to pull herself up.

"Warn a girl next time, will you? And yes. I was nearly finished when you asked me yesterday."  
She dusted invisible lint off her uniform skirt.

He nodded and sat down in the chair in front of her. "So... Agreste? Why did he want to talk to you?" She sat down and took a deep breath.

"We dated about two years ago. It was pretty serious until I found him kissing another girl." She winced. "It's over now." He looked deep in thought for a moment, then reached over to grab her hand. "Well let me just say, if we ever dated, I would never treat you like that." He looked so serious, she couldn't help but believe him. 

Her face reddened and she looked down at their conjoined hands and marveled at how his big ones enveloped hers. She looked back up and smiled sweetly at him. "That's really sweet of you, Jason. Thank you."

He looked pleased at the sight of her red face. It didn't last long, because a familiar hand clapped down on her shoulder. Dread settled in the back of her spine, a shadow casting over her being, courtesy of Lila Rossi. 

"Marinette! My favorite sophomore! How are you?" The junior's claws dug uncomfortably on her shoulder as she gasped and let go of Jason's hand. Jason's eyebrows furrowed and he looked at her questioningly. She moved her gaze over to the table. She couldn't deal with both of them right now. She was in the belly of the beast, exactly where she didn't want to be, especially with Rossi's sharp glare she was sure was cutting at her back.

"I'm fine." She forced out through gritted teeth. Anyone could sense her discomfort from a mile away, yet it felt like years until Lila said something again.

"Oh, Jason! I didn't see you there! What are you doing with Marinette here?" Her sickly sweet smile and tone made Marinette want to throw up so bad she didn't hear Jason's response. She yelped when Lila's sharp cat-like nail broke through the fabric of her uniform and her skin, drawing blood.

Jason's eyes widened as he stood up and kneeled before Marinette, brushing off Lila's hand to inspect her shoulder. "Don't mind her, she's fine. Just a little game that we like to play. Right, Marinette?" Lila glared at her when Jason wasn't looking.

"What kind of game involves you physically hurting her?" Jason asked, enraged. He wiped the excess blood off her shoulder and stood up with her. "We're going to the nurse. Don't wait up, Rossi." Jason took her hand and started walking out the library. 

She looked back to see Lila make a slitting-your-throat motion with her hand. She looked furious, with her hands curled tightly in a fist and frown lines prominent on her forehead. She gulped with wide eyes, turning her head back around and tightening her hold on Jason's hand. This was going to warrant a lot more than an occasional push or shove to the floor.

She wouldn't be surprised if someone found her with a slit throat in the back of an alley by the next morning.

Once they were safely out of the library and out of the vulture's hearing range, she turned to him. "I don't need to go to the nurse." He looked down at her through his bangs and around the hallway to see if anyone was eavesdropping.

"I know, I just wanted to get away from that bitch. I can't stand her fucking voice." A laugh bubbled out of her. "Why does she hate you anyway?"

Marinette swallowed, her throat quickly becoming dry. She didn't know the full story.  
She has always just been a target for people like Lila and her flunkey Alya, a punching dummy at their mercy all times of the day. 

She knew one thing though, and it was that Lila didn't like her being near Jason. She had made it very clear after she found her staring at the back of his head in study hall. The bluenette still had marks where Rossi's nails gripped onto her arms, holding her down as Alya Cesaire punched her repeatedly. 

That girl has a mean right hook.

"I- she kind of likes you. I-I think she was mad at me for talking to you." Her voice grew smaller with each word and he stopped walking, almost making her trip. She looked up in surprise, his face had a mask of anger on, gripping her hand so hard she thought it was broken.

"That's fucking stupid." Her head ducked down in embarrassment until he reached down and gently tipped her chin up to meet his intense gaze. "Not you. The giraffe back there. I like you. I'd be sad if you stopped talking to me because a low-life bully told you not to."

"Why do you bother? I'm not someone special." The sentence came out of her before she could stop it. She didn't mind. She would like to know the answer anyway. His already intense gaze turned even more serious and he took both of her hands in his as he responded.

"It may not look like it to you, but I don't have many friends willing to look past my wealth and the fact that I get into a lot of physical fights. Come on, I wanna take you somewhere that isn't this gloomy grotto." Her eyebrows furrowed and she shook her head. She couldn't skip class! She'd lose her scholarship. Who knows what would result in case that were to happen. She shuddered and looked up at him, a wary look on her face.

"Jason, I-" he cut her off. "Please?" He looked at her with big, sad eyes. She couldn't say no to him. She decided that this boy was worth every single form of abuse if it meant she got to spend her sacred time on earth with him. She sighed and nodded. 

"Fine. Okay." He grinned and led her out of the school gates to his motorcycle.

Did he expect her to hop on that? She was not about to risk her life, even for a smoking hot upperclassman. "I'm not riding that."

He pouted, God, that was cute. "Aw, c'mon Marinette, it'll be fun. I won't let you fall if you hold on really tight to me." He winked.

She blushed and looked away. It was tempting. "Okay." He climbed on and placed his helmet on her head, flicking the visor down with his index finger. "Climb on, Nette."

She climbed on behind him. "Um, I don't know what to do with my hands." He chuckled and moved her hands to rest on his waist. She blushed at the contact.

"Hold on tight." He whispered and started up the motorcycle. It zoomed out of the parking lot and she yelped, wrapping her arms tight around Jason's middle that was surprisingly muscled. He chuckled at her surprise.

Five minutes passed by, she felt exhilarated by the wind and being so close to Jason, till they stopped at Gotham Central Park. (Does that exist?)

Jason stepped off and offered a hand to help her out. She quickly accepted and smoothed down her skirt. "Thank you." She looked around, the park was empty sans a few other people strolling around with pets. Reasonable, considering it was the middle of the day and people had school or work.

"Wanna walk around? I would love to get to know more about you." He extended a hand.

They started to walk along the path when Marinette started speaking.

"Well, I live in a bakery, and as much fun as it might seem it kind of puts me on edge all times of the day." Jason frowned. She decided right then that she didn't like to see him frown. 

"Why?"

"It's three blocks away from Crime Alley." She explained.

"Ah. No worries, I'm sure Gotham's vigilantes will look over it." She laughed, looking at his face.

"What makes you say that? I think I can look after myself, thank you very much for underestimating me." He looked at her and laughed.

"Are you serious? A little mouse like you? Sorry to say, but corrupted people like to go for who they think are defenseless." His eyes grew solemn. She noticed and squeezed his hand, making him look at her.

When had they stopped walking?

"It's okay. My mother taught me karate." She tried to lighten the mood and smiled at him. The boy smiled back, reaching an arm to ruffle her hair.

"Anybody ever tell you how cute you are?" She blushed for the third time that day. This was getting ridiculous. If she wanted to get through the day without looking like a tomato permanently, this sweet talk needed to stop.

"Only you." He clicked his tongue and crouched down to her level. His eyes were a beautiful shade of aquamarine blue that contrasted so nicely against his dark hair. It made her want to bury her hands in it.

"That's good. I wanna be the only one to appreciate you like this." It was her turn to widen her eyes the size of saucers. This boy was going to be the death of her. She knew he knew what he was insinuating by saying that.

Damn.

He suddenly cleared his throat. She looked at him, startled, before he winked and swooped down to grab the sides of her cheeks.

"Do you want this?" He breathed, she was too stunned to do anything but stare at him, opening and closing her mouth as if to say something, but nothing came out. 

Oh shit, he was going to kiss her. Hell yeah, she wanted it.

She finally closed her mouth and nodded, and he closed the gap between their lips.

Her senses were quickly overpowered by his smell, his taste, his everything. She was being enveloped by him and she knew for a fact she didn't want it to stop. She reached her arms up to bury her hands in his hair, feeling the soft strands against her calloused fingers that spent so many hours sewing while she kissed him back. He moaned in her mouth and pressed his chest against hers, coaxing a mewl in return. 

His lips were soft against hers, massaging them. When Adrien kissed her, all she ever felt was intensity, but Jason. Oh, Jason. He made her feel loved and cherished in the best way possible, a stark contrast against Adrien.

She knew now that whatever she and Adrien had wasn't real. He was using her. For what? She didn't know, but this, was real. She could taste the sincerity that was radiating off of him.

His tongue swiped at her bottom lip, making her gasp. He took it as an invitation to explore her mouth with his tongue and mingle with hers until she pulled back and leaned a hand against him, catching her breath.

"Wha? Was that for?" She gasped out. He shrugged.

"Couldn't help myself. I wasn't lying when I said you were the cutest human being I've ever seen." He told her like it was the most obvious thing in the world, which to him, it probably was. He quickly grew anxious. "Why? Did you not want that? I'm so sorry if I overstepped any boundaries-" she cut him off with a finger.

"No, no. You're fine. Just... I've uh, never been kissed like that before." He looked pleased with himself at her answer and took her hand to continue walking down the path and conversing with her.

It was about 2 pm when she finally realized she couldn't talk with him forever, as much as she'd love to, —God, she loved talking to him—he made her feel as if time stood still, and she was the only person in the world. The way he looked at her made her feel as if she was finally enough.

That's all she's ever wanted.

"We should head back to class. My father's going to be pissed when he finds out I ditched." Shivers went down her spine as she thought of her dad. 

He was okay sometimes, but when he would come home drunk from an unknown activity and physically abuse her, she'd forget all about the good times and cower in fear of the drunk that resided in their quaint bakery. The welts from his belt burned on her back, as if remembering the memory gave her new ones. He was a closeted monster, a family man on the outside only, and exactly two people knew it. 

Jason must've sensed her discomfort because he quickly agreed and drove back to Gotham Academy where they finished up for the day.

She gathered her books from her locker and quickly left the gates, sighing in relief when nobody sought her out. She walked home and stepped through the front door of the bakery to get to the living room.

It smelled of alcohol. She tensed, —So much for no one seeking her out— this was much worse than the everyday bullies at school, she would graduate and eventually forget all of them, but this, would stay with her forever.

"Marinette." Tom growled. He hadn't been her father in a long time, and she refused to call him that anywhere that wasn't in public or to his face.

"Um, yes? Father?" She ground the word out and put on a look of innocence on her face, slowly turning around to face him. He had bags under his eyes and his shirt was rumpled, but what caught her eye was the grimy pocket knife he had in his hand, almost concealed by his sleeve. Her throat ran dry as she choked on her saliva.

Knives, she hates knives.

"Were you... cutting open a package?" Fear spread along her back, she took a step back as he advanced toward her.

"No. But I heard that you skipped class today, Marinette. Mind telling me why you were being so careless? You could've gotten your scholarship taken away. Do you want me to spend excess money on tuition and go into debt? Is that what you want Marinette?" He growled, now less than two feet away from her.

"No! I'm s-sorry! I-I didn't mean to! I-" Tom lunged, swiping at her leg. The pocket knife sliced over her knee-high socks and dragged down on her leg, cutting her leg open. She screamed in pain, stumbling over to the door, is only she could get away! She would have to take the chance. She limped over to the door and grabbed onto the doorknob, turning it open, only to have her fathers hand slam down onto the door, trapping her.

"Don't try to run away from me, Marinette. You deserve this." Tears rolled down her face as he slashed his knife at her arm and held her by her neck in place against the door, choking her.

She didn't deserve this. She didn't believe anything that bastard said. She never would, if she could help it.

She coughed and gasped for air that did not bless her lungs. Her vision was invaded by black dots as she nodded off, feeling numb to the punches and cuts her father continued to give her.

Marinette gasped awake, dragging long-lost oxygen into her lungs. Sitting up, she realized she was still in the floor and there was a pool of blood surrounding her. She looked down, assessing the damage. Multiple cuts and bruises around her body, plus ones she probably couldn't see on her face. It was terrifying to know that this wasn't even the worst of it. She cursed, remembering she still had school tomorrow and scurried to her room on the top floor.

It was a barren room with a bed and a desk, which held her sewing machine and sketchbook. She had saved up from jobs all around the city, like walking dogs and babysitting to afford a good sewing machine. She was extremely proud of the products she produced from it. She often sold her pieces to the residents of Gotham. She grabbed her sewing kit and hastily stitched her cuts up, messily tying them. She walked to her closet and pulled out a sweater and long pants to hide her bruises. Nobody would question her, it was Gotham. The city grew very cold in the winters.

She walked to her mirror, and confirmed that there were multiple bruises that she didn't remember receiving, plus an angry purple ring around her throat.

Underneath all the bruises and cuts, was a face she didn't recognize. She didn't recall how or why she had become such a pushover, a dummy. Didn't know when she had told herself she wasn't worthy, but she believed it. She had changed and grown in all the wrong ways, from her childhood. It was stripped away from her. By the monster she called her dad, the monsters out on the street, the poverty she saw everyday. She didn't have any smile lines yet, despite being sixteen already. She rarely smiled nowadays.

She pulled out her dwindling tube of concealer, making sure to spread it around all the areas that weren't covered by clothing. By the time she was done, she looked almost normal, if the haunted look in her eyes didn't count. 

She fixed her hair and left out a plate of cookies on her balcony for Batman and Robin, like she always did when they used the route that looked over the balcony. 

She wasn't going out, but figured if they happened to look through the window, she wouldn't be all bruised and make them call child protective services. She didn't want to waste their time. She didn't deserve it anyway. She returned to her room and quietly did her homework.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Be bad, but at least don’t be a liar, a deceiver!”
> 
> -Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit goes down honestly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jason is soooo whipped lmao.
> 
> ALSO A POINT OF VIEW FROM JASON AHHH! I love him so much mwah mwah.
> 
> Also, thank you guys for commenting! I love love reading your comments!

Marinette woke up the next day feeling worse than usual. Her body was sore everywhere and she had blinding migraine.

A sigh escaped her. She didn't deserve this. She repeated it in her head like a mantra. Those were the only things keeping her going these days.

She felt a tug on her very soul to keep going, keep chasing her dreams and imagine her life in the future, a day where she would wake up and appreciate the birds chirping, the gentle breeze from an open window nearby softly blowing on to her back.

A back with no bruises crawling on it.

She had often pondered about what would happen if she told somebody about her situation, but it usually ended with her father finally obtaining the balls to murder her, or ending up on the streets.

There was no escape.

She willed herself to not think about it, and swerved her thoughts to Jason.

A gift to her, from who knows where. Jason was that gift. The past two days had both been the worst and best days of her life, she couldn't bring herself to wish they'd never happened.

That would mean Jason would never happen.

She shivered from the thought and removed herself from the cocoon she had wrapped herself up in during blessed sleep, every part of her body aching and protesting to get back in bed and sleep the day away to the weekend.

No. She couldn't do that. She wouldn't do that.

After successfully covering her scars and scratches despite being momentarily held back by her pounding head, she put on her uniform, having stitched up the sock that was cut by her fathers pocket knife. Her migraine had gradually subsided into a dull throbbing in the back of her head so she decided not to take an aspirin, for it would probably be gone by the time she got to school.

We all make stupid choices. Right?

It didn't. Just her fucking luck. She sat in class clutching her head, unable to focus on anything but the unbearable pain in her head. After what felt like forever, the bell rang for lunch. She shakily stood up, ignoring the curious looks and glares from her peers. She knew she looked absolutely horrible compared to the rich students, but she couldn't do anything about it now. She hoped Jason wouldn't seek her out today.

Exiting the classroom, she noticed two things.

Or rather, two people.

Alya Cesaire on her left.

Lila Rossi on her right.

She never played sports, but right now she was thinking block and tackle. She ducked her throbbing head behind her heavy textbook and crouched down against the wall.

Deep breaths. What would Jason do?

Wrong question. He would punch them. She wasn't going to punch anyone, not now, not ever. Especially not with this damn headache. She would just have to lay low and hope for the best.

A hand grabbed her shoulder. 

Speak of the devil and she shall appear. 

She whipped her head around, only to have her migraine explode in intensity, she groaned and held her head up with her hand, closing her eyes tightly from the pain. She was vaguely aware of someone grabbing her other shoulder and pulling her in front of them, holding their hand to her forehead. Said person was calling her name, though it was as if the person was five miles away. She couldn't see anymore, just felt the blinding white pain coming from her cranium. She felt her consciousness slipping away from her as she crumpled to the ground, almost hitting the floor before being caught by a warm body.

The bell rang. 

Fucking finally, he thought. Gathering his binder and walking out the door, he traveled to where Marinette's classroom was until he saw her crouched behind her books against the wall.

No one was with her? She was just... crouching. God, she looked horrible, and not in a mean way, she just looked...

Horrible.

She looked like she slathered concealer all over her body, he could grab her hand and there would probably be a slightly orange residue on it from her concealer from how much was on her.

Her face looked even worse. She was noticeably pale and blinking too slowly. If you looked closely—which he always did— you could notice that she was swaying slightly.

His analyzation was interrupted when she shot up and limped away from her spot against the wall. He was about to walk over when he saw a certain brown haired girl grab her shoulder and swing her around. He growled and stalked toward where Marinette was grabbing at her head and Alya looked surprised at her expression.

Glaring at Alya, he grabbed her shoulder and slowly turned her around, trying to be careful not to distress her further, to no avail, she went limp in his arms.

People around him gasped, he glared at them and they immediately stopped looking to scurry off to their next class.

Alya glowered at him before she stalked off and gripped Lila's arm, pulling her away as well.

Good riddance.

The robin blew out a puff of air while the population in the hall swiftly diminished to where it was just him and Marinette. 

He scooped her up bridal style and walked over to the nurses office.

Upon entering, The nurse's face paled and her eyes widened when she realized there was a limp body in his arms. That definitely did not look good in her eyes so he decided to start explaining.

Once he told the nurse about the situation, she hurried Marinette over to a lonely bed with a white pillow.

"Can I stay with her?" He looked at her with pleading eyes. She sighed and nodded, giving him a stern look that seemed to say 'don't do anything stupid' before leaving to go to her desk.

He looked at the bluenette, she seemed to look paler than he though upon taking a closer look. He reached up a hand to wipe a stray lock of hair out of her forehead, but his index finger accidentally swiped at her concealer, leaving a purple bruise in its wake.

Jason gulped and his eyes widened. Was she getting abused? What's happening? Panic took over and he started wiping at the exposed skin on her face, her neck, and her arms.

Once he was finished, tears gathered in the corners of his eyes.

Bruises. Cuts. Everywhere. The one that scared him most was the angry purple ring around her neck. It screamed domestic abuse at him and he gripped her hand so loudly he became afraid it would break.

He didn't care.

She whimpered, the light felt bright behind her eyelids, almost blinding her.

"Marinette! You're awake!" She groaned and tried to reach up a hand to rub at her eyelids, but upon opening them, she saw that there was a large hand almost literally glued to it. She looked around at the boring plain walls. She was in the school nurses office.

She shot up, only to have Jason push her back down on the stiff bed she was laying on by her shoulders.

"Calm down, Marinette. You're okay. You're not in trouble, no one is going to hurt you." She furrowed her eyebrows. Why was he saying that?

She looked down at herself and gasped softly in surprise. All of the concealer she had put on to cover her body was gone,—it looked like it was rubbed off, probably Jason—and in its wake, her hideous bruises and scars stared back at her, taunting her. Tears started to roll down her face. She looked disgusting.

She looked at Jason through her teary vision. He looked so worried. She didn't him to worry for her, all because she ditched. This was all her fault.

"Marinette?" She cleared her throat so she could answer.

"Y-yes?" Her throat was scratchy, objecting with every word that came out of her mouth. She could barely focus on Jason.

"Do you want to tell me why you have all these?" She gulped, looking down at the cuts and bruises that marred her body. Anyone that looked at her would suspect domestic abuse. And they would be right.

"I... got mugged?" She looked up at him. He raised an eyebrow, obviously not believing her excuse.

"Bruised ribs, broken bones, head injuries. I- you don't get these from muggers, and not over a long period of time. Don't lie. Tell me."

Her parents were going to go to jail.

Not if she didn't tell him.

"I... can't."

Jason exhaled loudly. "I cant help you if you don't tell me. If you don't want anyone to know, it'll stay between us." She searched his eyes, looking down once she found nothing but truth. She still couldn't do it, no matter how hard she willed herself to.

"I'm sorry." Jason's hand clasped tightly over hers, silently reassuring her. She chose to ignore the worried look on his face. 

"Don't be sorry. I understand." A look from him told her he truly did understand. He wasn't just trying to appease or make her feel better in the moment. He wasn't one of the vultures who would look at you with pity and turn around to gossip about you to their socialite circles, but she had knew that for a long time. Even before he sought her out.

"Marinette, can I hug you?" His eyes looked pleading. She couldn't say no, so she nodded and opened her arms as much as she could without hurting herself. He sat on the stiff bed, gently took her in is arms and rested his head on top of hers.

Warmth spread around her cold body. She snuggled into Jason, burying her head into his neck. He rubbed her back affectionately, mindful of her bruises as he started to speak.

"If you ever need to talk to someone, I'm here." She felt his chest vibrate with every word. She nodded.

Jason needed to figure out what was going on, and he needed to do it soon, or else she would die.

The bruises all over her body only compelled him further.

He had found one good thing in his sucky life and he was not about to lose her. He decided he needed to figure it out from the inside, so he offered to walk her home and do their homework together, so he could bug her home.

He wasn't being creepy, he was just worried. That's what he liked to reassure himself.

He wasn't being creepy, right?

After the nurse discharged Marinette, he cleared his throat to get her attention. "Ready?" She looked up at him through her eyelashes and he felt his breath catch. 

Even when looking so broken, she still managed to find a way to look absolutely beautiful. The way her eyes shone with warmth and her eyelashes cast shadows over her cheeks. Her posture still shown him the kind of confidence he wished he had, even after what had just happened.

He wasn't exactly going to let it fucking slide. When he finds out who did that he might just kill them.

He wasn't allowed to do that, though.

Screw Batman, screw Bruce. He really wanted to kill whoever did this.

He slung both of their backpacks over his shoulder and gently took her hand, helping her up from the bed.

Her gaze calmed him down enough to form words. "Thank you." She looked confused at that, tilting her head slightly.

"For what?"

"Being in my life." She smiled beautifully and squeezed his hand with hers, and he felt his ears go red.

They exited the school gates, the school yard being completely void of students, being that it was after three pm. The sun was shining brightly behind the clouds, as if they wanted to silence it but it kept shining.

Reminded him of Marinette. He turned his head to stare at her but found that she already beat him to it. The breeze blew softly into her hair and the sun shone on her, making it seem as if she was an angel.

She was.

She blushed softly and looked away at the ground. He kicked a piece of rubble to get her to turn her beautiful eyes back on him.

"You okay?" He stared at her lips as she said the words, her soft lips that made him want to kiss them all day, everyday.

“Yeah. I’m with you, aren’t I?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “All the variety, all the charm, all the beauty of life is made up of light and shadow.”
> 
> -Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette’s adventures as an unpaid cashier resume.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two words.
> 
> Dick. Grayson. 
> 
> *swoons*
> 
> QUESTION: should I include the miraculous in this fic? It would fit in really well but this fic would also be good even if it didn’t have the miraculous.

Five-year-old Marinette pushed open the trapdoor slightly from the attic she called her room to find out why she could hear her mama and papa screaming at each other through the thick walls of the bakery.

Through the crack, she could see her mama towering over where her papa sat, red-faced and fisting a bunch of crinkling papers—bills, she realized.

Her papa was growing angrier at the minute until he shot up and tore the bills away from her mamas hand. Her eyes widened with fear, but she made no move to stop watching, eyes glued to the scene before her.

She watched as the man she called her father raised a hand and hit her mother, every action made seemed to be moving in slow motion as the child tensed up at the sight.

Her mother was hit with so much force she fell on the ground, shaking with fear and cradling he cheek that her papa had hit with such force.

The trapdoor flew open by her hands and she shot down the steps and to her mother, taking the woman’s face in her tiny hands.

The red hand-shaped mark on her mama’s face was already beginning to bruise. Tears ran down her face, making the child angry at seeing her mother so sad. Suddenly, she saw a shadow cast over her mother. She whipped her head around to meet the eyes of her father. His eyes were darkened and angry; his face contorted into an angry expression, the wrinkles in between his eyebrows were prominent.

Her breath hitched as she scrambled to get away from him, but no avail, as he grabbed the back of her collar and held her up in the air.

She twisted to get free of his grip, but willed her self to relax, for he would only get more angrier if she defied him.

“Marinette. Be a good girl and go upstairs. This does _not_ involve you.” His eyes seemed more and more dangerous, silently daring her to disobey.

She furrowed her eyebrows and flailed her arms, trying simultaneously to get out of his violent grasp and hit him with almost every part of her small body for touching her beloved mother.

“Marinette!” She heard her mother wail.

Tom growled and threw her down to the floor. She whimpered in pain, covering her head with her arms only to have him kick her in the back.

“Annoying little bitch.”

She had never felt any pain like this before. The betrayal of her father mixed in with a constant and reoccurring pain shooting down her spine brought tears to her eyes faster than when she came across a video on YouTube of a homeless dog.

“I never wanted a child.”

“Tom, stop!” She could hear her mother screech. Suddenly, Tom was ushered away from her and she was taken into her mother’s arms, vaguely hearing a shushing noise and soft pets against the shoulder-length hair that had been pulled into pigtails.

The slam of the door was both terrifying and relieving at the same time. Both her and her mother let out a breath at the same time.

“Marinette.” Her mother spoke, gently turning her daughter’s head to face her. Marinette’s eyes widened when she saw her mother’s face.

Her mother’s face was not her mother’s face.

This is not how she remembered it.

Her mouth dropped and her eyes widened in horror and started scrambling away to get out of her mother’s tightening grip.

Tom’s angry portrait glared back at her from where she was being tightly held by her mother’s hands.

What? How?

and with a sadistic grin, he started speaking.

“Wake up.”

She gasped awake, clutching the thin sheets on her bed for some kind of comfort, any.

Just a nightmare, she realized. She gulped down the excess saliva crowding her throat and wiped the stray hairs from her sticky face.

Just a nightmare.

A _very_ realistic nightmare, a scene she had almost forgotten in the midst of all her recent turmoil.

The day that turned her world upside down.

With shaky limbs, she slipped off of the small bed and stalked to the bathroom.

Looking up at the mirror, she was no longer the five year old girl that had loved her parents so much, the girl that would do anything for the people that had created her.

She was sixteen now. Shadows casting in her eyes making her look much older. A sheen of sweat coated her sickly pale face, chapped lips bleeding from when she had bit them so hard in her sleep.

Marinette crouched down to open one of the many ovens in their kitchen and grabbed a tray full of warm cookies to put on the display case.

She worked in the bakery on the weekends so her mother could avoid extra costs of a part-time worker. She didn’t get paid, but it was worth it to see the relief on her mother’s face when she had extra time to help out front.

She was ringing up a costumer when she heard a slam of hands in front of her. She jumped and looked up at a man grinning broadly at her. He had black hair and bright blue eyes. It reminded her of when she was still a child, she had ocean blue eyes that were filled with warmth all hours of the day. They had dimmed drastically in comparison to the man in front of her.

“Hello, may I help you?” She put on a wide smile for him and finished putting the extra cash in the cashier.

“Jason was right. You _are_ adorable. Ya know, he didn’t want me to come over, but I couldn’t resist!” Her eyes widened. This was Jason’s adopted brother, Bruce Wayne’s first ward, Richard Grayson. He smiled at her and started to speak again before she could so much as blink.

“Marinette, right? My name’s Richard, but you can just call me Dick.” She blinked to relieve her dry eyes and realized he was holding a hand out to her.

To shake.

To shake her hand.

Not to hit her.

She quickly shook his hand, not thinking about the consequences. “Nice to meet you, Dick-ow!” She flinched, pulling her hand out of his grasp when he gripped her bruised wrist a little too hard. His smile instantly turned into a frown, and she could see concern and suspicionswim in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” She gulped, wringing her hands together.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Slipped the other day and landed on my wrist.” She laughed awkwardly, “What can I get you?”

The doubt and concern had quickly flew from his expression, replaced by a look of excitement, like one you might see on a child at an amusement park. “Can I get a dozen chocolate chip cookies? Also, do you have chocolate milk?” He looked pleading at that, and she couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yes, we do. It’ll be a few seconds, though.” She smiled at him and went to prepare his order. She had finished the milk and was grabbing a cookie from the display with tongs when she saw a very-familiar-very-obnoxious looking Lila Rossi looking at her from a table where she sat with Alya. She gasped and faltered with the tongs, dropping the cookie on the floor.

Shit. Her dad was going to kill her for that. She scurried to finish the order and dropped the cookie into the trash can with a cringe. She put the box and the milk on the counter before turning to Dick with sorry eyes. “Sorry that took so long. Anything else?”

Dick had a look of worry for the bluenette when he saw what had made her so rigid, but quickly relaxed. “Nah, I’m good.” He put on a look of thoughtfulness on his face as he slid money toward her on the counter, “Say, how would you like to accompany me and Jason to a museum tomorrow?”

She blinked wildly. Was he talking to her? Marinette the loner? Marinette, the kid who couldn’t go a day without being bullied? “Uh, me?” He chuckled.

“Yes, Marinette. You.” Once she shook the shock away, joy replaced it. Someone wanted to spend time with her. She wouldn’t be alone for once.

She smiled, a real smile at him. One of joy, one that she had never been able to quite replicate since her toddler days.

“Of course! Sure!” She breathed out at him. He grinned back and took the box and cup, backing away.

“See you, cupcake!” The bell on the door rang out as he left, and only then did she realize he slipped her a twenty dollar-bill when the price was only five.

She shook her head. These Wayne boys were going to be the death of her. She put the bill in the cashier anyway. Her father wouldn’t be pleased that she had gotten extra money, yet not as much goods had been sold to show for it.

Maybe if she was lucky, he’d let it slip.

“Ahem. Don’t you cashiers ever pay attention?” Her head shot up to meet the eyes of a certain Lila Rossi she has momentarily forgotten about.

“Right. What can I get you?” Lila chuckled, placing her bony hands on the counter. She reminded herself to clean it after she left.

“A restraining order after I’m done with you, slut.” Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. What had she done to warrant a restraining order? Who-oh.

Of course.

Jason.

“A restraining order against you or me? Because that outfit just about punched me in the gut, girl. Orange? Really?” She scoffed at Lila. She didn’t know when or how she got this confidence, but it felt really damn good.

Apparently those were the wrong words because Lila _growled_. Growled as in like, a fucking dog, and grabbed Marinette by the collar of her turtleneck.

“Shut up, bitch. If you ever have the guts to talk back to me again, I’ll make sure they’re ripped out.” She have a final tug at her collar and dropped her to the blessed ground. Lila looked around, making sure no one saw, and leaned down once more.

“Skipping class with a certain street rat? People will think things, start rumors, _Marinette_.” She seethed. Marinette clenched her hands so hard she felt blood start to drip from where skin met fingernail.

“No.” She breathed. Lila smirked at her and flipped her hair.

“Oh yes, slut. Watch yourself. Or else.” She strutted off, leaving a giggling Alya to trail behind her.

Marinette let out a shaky breath and returned to registering after she had wiped the blood from her palms.

Hail the fucking gods, she was lucky for once. Her father had come home at seven p.m from wherever he was when he wasn’t manning the kitchen and went straight to bed. She scampered up to her room and threw herself beneath the covers of her creaky bed.

Someone liked her enough, other than Allan, to hang out with her!

Lila would probably be on the watch, though. She would have to be careful not to get carried away, God forbid kiss him again!

As much as she would like to. She sighed dreamily, remembering the kiss they had shared a few days ago. She hoped she would get to kiss him like that all the time.

The way his soft lips caressed hers, as if she was a painting and he was taking his time to memorize every part of her, slowly and languidly.

She closed her eyes and willed herself off to dreamland, where she would hopefully dream of Jason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “It is said that time heals all wounds. I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue. And the pain lessens, but it is never gone.”
> 
> -Rose Kennedy.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette meets a strange woman and goes to the museum.
> 
> TW: child abuse, mentions of child abuse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is going to be a longgg one. Probably more than twenty chapters. I have so many ideas I just- AH! My brain is bursting and I literally don’t have enough time to write all of them down-

Marinette slipped on her flats as she got ready for her shift in the bakery. A simple black sweater she knitted and green slacks would have to do.

Her hands itched to design a more fitting outfit for when a task as simple as taking her role as cashier in the bakery below her, but she rarely had the time and money for little things such sewing an outfit for a mere weekend job.

She tied the apron loosely around her waist and scrubbed at her bruised hands. slapping on her gloves, she flipped over the open sign.

Marinette sighed as the hours trickled by, nothing and no one interesting catching her eye. Except for this one woman.

The woman abruptly pushed open the door,triggering the bell that chimed every time someone walked in.

She watched as the lady, an old woman—probably in her seventies, straightened her back and smoothed down her modest skirt and hiked up her sweater vest, a horrid combination if you asked Marinette, but this particular woman made it seem normal.

Fashionable, maybe.

The woman looked to be Chinese, with a small nose and smile lines surrounding her mouth, her face sagged in a way that you usually saw on elderly people's faces but her eyes seemed bright as she looked around. She radiated a calm energy that Marinette could feel bleeding into her from across the room. She internally felt her anticipation level drop and took a deep breath.

The woman cleared her throat and smiled sweetly at Marinette, her seemingly wise eyes studying her.

"Good morning, Miss. What can I help you with?" The bluenette grinned up at her.

"Do you have Pu-erh tea, by chance?" Her eyes turned into a calculating look, testing her.

Did they have that tea? Hell, Marinette had never even heard of something remotely related to that.

Poo-er?

Marinette gave a confused look. "I'm sorry, Miss. I'm not sure we do. If you come back tomorrow, I will have some for you." She returned to her playful smile. If this lady wanted tea, Marinette was going to give her some damn tea.

"No need to trouble someone such as yourself, Marinette." Marinette did a double take. How the hell did this woman know her name?

The woman smiled knowingly at her expression. "Surely a girl as smart as you know better than to go to great lengths for a stranger, yes?" The young teenager blinked, snapping herself out of her daze.

"No troubles, Miss..." she trailed off, eyeing the woman.

"Fu."

"Miss Fu. If I can go out of my way to make sure the people around me are content, I will." The woman had a gleam in her eyes, as if Marinette had passed a hidden test.

"I'll be here tomorrow, then. Good day, Marinette. Take care of yourself." The woman turned to leave, turning her head to side eye Marinette.

"One more thing." Marinette tilted her head in anticipation. "If I had known I was going to live so long, Miss Marinette, I would have taken better care of myself. Do see to it that you at least put your health before other's livelihood." Marinette choked on her spit in surprise and raised a hand to knock the saliva out of her trachea.

What the hell? Did this woman know everything about Marinette's life? Or just the things she's never told anyone? She heard the bell's chime, indicating that the woman had left, leaving Marinette to stare off into the distance with one hand on her chest.

"Pixie?" The nickname snapped her back into focus, looking at now what she realized were the bright blue eyes of Jason Todd.

Dick was standing next to him, hands in his pockets, studying her expression and the hand that was still on her chest, all the while possessing a concerned gleam in his eyes.

She put it down by her side and smiled, wiping her clammy palms on her dusty apron. "Jason, Dick. Nice to see you. What are you guys doing here?" Both of the older men shared a confused look with one another before turning back to her.

"We're here to pick you up, remember? To go to the museum?" Marinette's eyes widened in recognition. Shit, she'd forgotten. She smiled at them and held up a finger to tell them she'd be a minute. Jason nodded and she flung herself into the kitchen where her mother and father were baking and manning the ovens.

She cleared her throat. "Maman? I won't be able to cover the cashier for a few hours." Her mother looked at her in shock but nodded anyway.

"Ok, Marinette. Get back as soon as possible." Marinette took one last look at her glaring father and gulped loudly.

"Okay. Bye." She turned and unraveled the knot on her apron, hanging it up on a hanger by the door and walking out where she met the awaiting faces of Dick and Jason.

She gripped her shaking hands together and looked around at the costumers sitting down at various tables. "Did you guys want some pastries before we go? They're good, promise."

Jason shook his head and glared at a pouting Dick. "Nah, we wouldn't want to trouble you," He paused, giving a pointed glower at the door in which her parents resided behind, "We should get going, though."

As they exited the bakery, Dick turned to her. "So, cupcake, what do you find yourself doing when you aren't manning the cashier?" She flushed at the attention and cleared her throat before answering.

"I design clothes. Yes, I made the clothes I'm wearing now." She added when she saw Dick eyeing her outfit and opening his mouth the day something. He clamped his mouth closed and grinned sheepishly before responding excitedly.

"That's so cool! They look adorable on you!" Dick was about to say something else, but stopped when he saw Jason's glare.

Dick coughed and opened the door of a black BMW for Marinette to step into. She smiled politely and slid in the backseat, Jason sliding in after her.

“Holy shit. I’ve never noticed this, but Robin’s costume makes me want to barf. How can he wear this?”

“Finally someone fucking agrees with me. Those crusty panties have got to go.” Jason crossed his arms from where he and Dick were standing behind Marinette, who was currently losing all color in her face looking at figure of the present-day Robin.

Dick sputtered and shot Jason a look. “How can you say that? It looks better than Batman’s costume,” He paused, cringing over at the Batman statue slightly looming over it, “His underwear is outside of his costume!”

The two teens moved their gazes from Robin to Batman and simultaneously shuddered. “What an ass-wipe. I hate both of them.” Marinette glared up at Jason from where she was now standing next to him.

“Don’t be rude. They save lives.” If only they could save hers. Jason rolled his eyes and clapped a hand on Marinette’s shoulder.

“C’mon, I wanna take a look at the Rogues.” 

*subtle tapping of Marinette’s chin from Jason to get her to close it after she saw how horrible Joker’s outfit is.*

“Horrible. Utterly disgusting.” Marinette looked green.

“Amen, sister.” Jason bowed his head.

“I can’t even believe.” Dick, holding a dramatic hand to his chest.

The group of three traveled all over the museum for about two hours before Marinette started growing tense. She would really need to get going before her father got more mad than he already was when she decided to bail on the one thing he liked about her.

“Is it alright if I cut this short? My parents don’t exactly have a substitute for me on the weekends.” Dick frowned, but nodded anyway. They drove over to the bakery and she waved a goodbye, slowly stepping into the closed, dark bakery, the bell’s ring indicating her arrival.

She waited until they rounded the corner before she turned around and entered the living room.

Dark. Like the bakery. They must’ve closed up early. She couldn’t hear anything other than her faint breathing, no footsteps, no smell other than the flowery laundry detergent her mother must have used to wash the aprons today.

She couldn’t see anything other than the soft glow of the light coming from underneath her parents bedroom door, they must’ve been getting ready to sleep.

She climbed the ladder up to the attic and pushed open the trap door to her colder-than-normal room.

“I thought I could trust you with one simple job, Marinette.” Her name was spit out as if she was gum stuck on the bottom of his shoe. She tensed and flicked the lights on.

Tom was looming over her frame, probably because he had been waiting for her behind the trap door for some time. He didn’t smell like alcohol, which meant everything he was going to do to her would be a hell of a lot less sloppy, and a hell of a lot more hurtful.

Emotionally.

No. She couldn’t do this anymore. She didn’t care if she had Monday off to heal her bruises. She shouldn’t have to.

“I-I’m sorry, father. I’ll be there all day tomorrow. Promise! I-“ He cut her off with an angry punch to the wall behind him.

“It’s not just that, Marinette. Skipping school? Passing out in the middle of the hallway? You’re grades have been slipping too. Where did I go wrong? You’re so useless.” He advanced on her. She quickly backed away from him, but stopped when she hit the wall on the other side of the room. She was trapped.

Tom glared down on her. “I wish you were never born. I never wanted a child.”

“But, f-father, I only passed out because of my-“ She gasped as he raised a fist and brought it down to her face. The force alone made her drop to the floor, tears spilling freely out of her eyes and onto her clothes. She gripped her pounding head to regain some of the sight that had been lost to the sudden stars swarming her vision.

She gripped a small square device next to her for any kind of comfort or use. The device was foreign to her, but than again she didn’t know much about computers. Her hopes dampened when it crushed between her fingers. Maybe she had more strength than she thought. She turned back to Tom with a pleading look in her eyes.

“F-father _please-_ “

“Shut up, you useless-“ His voice was drowned out by the sudden deafness in her ears. She felt all of the kicks and punches he laid on her, yet she could do nothing except lay on the cold wood floor and whimper in pain.

“-don’t want you.” She felt as if he had been beating her for hours, only able to wallow in her pain. She felt she couldn’t move. Everything hurt, but she knew he would make it worse if she complained.

The slam of the trap door indicated he had gotten bored with her and left. Good riddance. She needed a few minutes to gather herself before she tried to stand.She coughed weakly, feeling a thick substance in the back of her throat.

Blood. This wasn’t the first time, and it probably wouldn’t be the last, either.

It was about an hour later when she felt she could breath normally enough to pry herself from the ground. She examined the damage in her mirror.

What the hell? Her injuries must be fucking internal because there was only a few more bruises than yesterday.

_Maybe there are more where you can’t see them._

“What the hell? My bug is broken.” Dick scrunched his face up in confusion at Jason’s statement from where they were both sitting at the Bat Computer.

“Your...bug?” Jason rolled his eyes and turned to Dick.

“I bugged Marinette’s home.” Dick’s eyes widened but before he could yell, Jason started explaining.

“I think she’s getting abused. She came to school one day with bruises and poorly concealed cuts all over her body. And... she passed out on me.” Jason looked at his hands and cringed, probably at the memory of Marinette.

He knew Jason had probably known Marinette a little less than a week, but it was obvious he really cared for the girl. He had gotten a glimpse of that at the museum, for when in between bickering and laughing, they exchanged heated and meaningful glances to one another.

If he was being honest, Dick enjoyed Marinette’s company too. She brought out the best in Jason, something he had never really got to experience himself a lot. and for that, he thought of Marinette fondly.

He sighed and laid a hand on Jason’s shoulder. The boy in question startled, surprised by Dick’s expression that was definitely not disappointment.

“Look, Little wing, I know where you’re coming from, but you can’t just bug her room. We have to catch ‘em in the act.” Jason quirked an eyebrow at that.

“Like, an ambush?”

“Exactly, Babybird.”   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view. Until you climb inside of his skin and walk around in it.”
> 
> -Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird.
> 
> Master Fu is a woman in this fic and I fucking STAND BY IT!! Also #teagoals.
> 
> Yes, I decided that the miraculous are making a cameo in this fic.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit goes down. A little fluff to retaliate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO MAD. I was editing this and the page REFRESHED AND I WAS ALMOST FRIGGING DONE!?!?!?!?3848;$&:;&;&3&
> 
> Enjoy the 3200 words. I didn’t really know where to end but it all inevitably came together. I rewrote this three times so that’s why it’s late.
> 
> Warning: Ahhh it’s a spoiler I can’t really tell you but: Mild Panic Attacks, Body Horror

Miss Fu strode over to a half-asleep Marinette, frowning over at the eyebags pulling at her drooping eyes.

After her first visit a few months ago, she had quickly became a regular and Marinette's favorite customer. They conversed with each other about nearly anything and everything.

Not everything, though.

She knew Fu knew about her situation, which was equally parts frustrating and concerning. The woman had a knack for intervening at the exact right time, whether it be keeping a fellow customer from spilling their tea all over their lap, to using her suspiciously good form and sucker punching a robber threatening Marinette for money in the eye.

The man went to jail crying like a baby.

Fu never out right confirmed she knew, but she kept making outrageous comments about Marinette's personal life that left the younger girl sputtering and choking on her own saliva.

She had a feeling this woman would have a big part in her life, if certain events transpired.

Marinette wouldn't mind. She looked up to the woman like a second mother.

"Marinette." Her stern tone did not go unnoticed to the young girl, barely able to suppress her wince. "You haven't been sleeping lately."

Marinette sucked in a lungful of air through her teeth and rubbed at the back of her neck. "I've had a lot of homework." _And beatings._

It was spoken not through words, but as the air shifted between them, she could see the almost-elderly woman grimace as she processed their unrecited meaning.

"You should come over for dinner more often. I know how hard it is to remind yourself to eat in between helping out here and school, but you've been looking pale recently." As much as Marinette enjoyed Fu's home-cooked meals and honest conversations, she simply didn't have anytime.

"You know how hard it is to find time." She looked past Fu at a new costumer entering the bakery, the bell chiming at his entry. "Now, what would you like this time? Raspberry macaroons? Or a new tea?" She grinned at Fu, knowing how much the woman loved trying new tea. Marinette herself had made it a challenge to see how many new teas the woman would try before she inevitably disliked one, prompting her to waste commission money on tea all over Gotham.

It was so worth it, if she was being honest.

Fu hummed in thought. "I'll go for Ancient Lotus Green this time, young lady." She nodded and started heating up the water while Fu sat down at the nearest table.

She turned to the next costumer and rang up their order.

***

Marinette groaned miserably as she pried out the heavy trigonometry textbook from her undersized locker.

"Don't look so down, Pixie. It's only trigonometry." She turned around and glared up at his smug expression. Much to her irritation, Jason had grown a few more inches over the past few months, making her crane her neck almost painfully everyday.

Her neck was sore, goddamnit.

"You can say that once you've been assigned two hours worth of homework. On a weekend! God!" Marinette shoved him over to make enough space so she could let him walk her over to her next class.

Jason grinned and started walking, ruffling her hair. "You're right, cutie. I am sincerely sorry for _ruffling_ your feathers, even though you look adorable when you're mad." She choked, surprised by his sudden affection.

It wasn't like they were dating, but every so often he would make an infuriating comment that made her blush like a tomato and stutter wildly.

She did not like it. Repeat, she did _not_ like it.

She liked it.

She decided not to answer and looked down at their feet, walking side by side.

"Pixie?" He nudged her with his arm. She lifted her head up to stare in his concerned eyes. She hummed in question.

"Am I being too forward? Scratch that, do you even like me?" He stopped walking, pulling on her sleeve to get her to stop too.

_Do you even like me?_

Marinette gulped, a wild blush spreading from her neck to the top of her head as she widened her eyes in panic.

Of course she liked him.

"No!" Jason furrowed his eyebrows at her statement and she mentally slapped herself.

"I-I mean! No! Of course I like you!" She groaned, putting her face in her hands when she heard him chuckling.

He gently grasped her wrists and pried the hands from her face to get her to look at him.

Through her lashes, she saw Jason looking down at her with fondness and something else she couldn't quite decipher.

"I like you too, Marinette. Would you do me the honor of going out on a date with me?" She grinned toothily at him and nodded vigorously.

"Yes." He squeezed her hand so hard she feared it might break and finished the remaining distance to get to her trig class.

"I forgot you don't have a cell phone." Jason clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth and leaned back on the library chair during their shared free period.

She nodded, eyeing him suspiciously. "Why? You can swing by the bakery if you wanna talk, no ones gonna kidnap you." He laughed and shook his head.

"Anytime? Day or night?"

She rolled her eyes. "Are you serious? Night? Sure, whatever." He grinned at her and played with the edge of his literature book, Jane Eyre.

"I'll swing by. To talk." He added after a few moments of thought, and the ghost of a frown presented on his features. She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.

Was there something she wasn't getting?

"Um, are you okay? You're acting weird." He shot his head up, startled, as if he was a little boy, caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Yeah." He paused, narrowing his eyes at her. "You'd tell me if you were in trouble, right?" She flinched as if he'd burned her, not expecting the sudden coldness.

"...What?"

He leaned across the table, reminding her of a scene on a cop show where the officer would interrogate the suspect. "I think you heard me, Marinette. Don't think I haven't noticed all the bruises, the limping, the half-dead expression." Marinette widened her eyes and opened her mouth dumbly, trying to find an answer.

"I-"

"Marinette." She shook her head, tears springing to her eyes. She knew what he wanted her to say. He already knew, so why couldn't he just keep his damn mouth shut? It was like he wanted her to say it, when she's never said it to anyone, ever.

"Shut the fuck up, Jason! I can't do this!" She rubbed her eyes red and grabbed her binder, giving him one last glare before she stomped off.

She wasn't about to let this hot-headed teenager get her to admit her most buried secret—even if it wasn't so secret anymore.

In her heated trudge across the halls to her locker, she distantly heard a voice calling her name.

"-Nette! Marinette!" She stopped and turned around to see Allan—her best friend— catch up to her with his hands on his knees, sucking in lungfuls of air.

"Damn, woman. You walk fast when angry." He straightened up, brushing his too-long dirty blonde bangs out of his eyes, "Whats got you in a twist, Nettie? I feel like I haven't seen you in ages." She sighed, the anger disappearing from her mind in favor of exhaustion.

"I'm sorry, I'm just... so exhausted." She searched his eyes for some kind of understanding, but all she received was remorse and confusion. He nodded for her to go on. "I have so much to do, and not enough time to do it." Her parents had been making everything so much worse.

Instead of supporting her dream of creating her own business in fashion, they punished her with more shifts in the bakery on weekdays, and barely enough time to even finish her homework.

she hadn’t had enough time in two months to even _think_ about designing something.

She had thought that at least her mother would appreciate and try to lessen the load, but she had been getting more and more distant and cold, just like her father.

She shuddered, thinking about what might happen if her mother were to grow as corrupt as her father.

Allan put a hand on her shoulder and exhaled loudly. "If you ever wanna talk, you can talk to me, you know? I’ll always be there for you." She glowered at him. Why did everyone want to talk about her life now?

When did she start letting down all of her walls?

She brushed his hand off her shoulder and stated coldly, "Yeah, sure. Bye, Allan." The bluenette turned at walked to her locker, leaving a confused boy to stare after her.

"Nettie. Talk to me. Please." She rolled her eyes and kept walking out of the courtyard, hiking the backpack higher up her shoulders.

"Marinette! I'm... sorry, okay! I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, I just- you’re the only person I know who looks past the fact that I’m a street rat and I don’t wanna _lose you_." She finally stopped and turned around to face Jason. He looked heartbroken and his knuckles were white from grasping his backpack strap so hard.

She sighed, she could never stay mad at him for long. "It's okay, Jason. I just wish you would mind your damn business." She teased and he cracked a smile and reached down to mock-push her shoulder.

"Can I hang out a bit before your shift?" She nodded and he took her hand and started walking toward the bakery.

She stopped before the bakery, confused as to why no lights were on and the closed sign was peeking through the usually-open curtains.

She spared a glance at an equally-confused Jason and fished out the key to unlock the door.

"Mother?" She called out to the empty area. When no one answered, she motioned for Jason to stay beside the door and travelled up the stairs to the supposedly empty living room.

Supposedly. Upon entering, she saw that it was dark as well. Marinette blindly palmed for the light switch but pulled her hand away when she felt something sticky on the wall surrounding it.

She furrowed her eyebrows and rubbed the substance between her fingers. Too thin to be frosting, yet too thick to be water.

She took a step toward, but found that her shoe was covered in the same substance that her fingers were coated in. She quickly reached for the light and flicked the switch.

She really wish she hadn't. Her breath hitched violently when she realized what was on her and glazed the walls and floors.

Blood.

Her mother. On the ground. Several cuts around her body, but the one that drew Marinette's attention and kept it there was the knife in her stomach.

In her stomach, Marinette had to repeat it in her mind as if to convince herself she's wasn't dreaming. Blood was still gushing out of the wound and on to the floor, as if her mother had any more left to give. She knew who did this, she knew whodidthissheknewwhodidthis-

She choked on a instantaneous scream and scrambled to get over to her mother, but slipped onto her knees due to the massive amount of blood on the floor.

"Marinette?" She heard a faint voice from behind the door. She tried to gasp for air, only to gag from the smell of guts and blood. Tears spilled freely on her cheeks and hands, leaving streaks of clean skin where water met blood.

"Jay-" she choked, scratching at her neck to try and release some of the invisible pressure that was suffocating her. The image of her mother on the ground burned inside her brain and she felt her heart break in two, as if only after the inevitable happened, she realized how much of a monster her father finally was.

Two hands gently grabbed at her scratching ones and pried them away from her face. Marinette heaved as she tried to explain.

"M-My f-father-r." Jason's grip tightened in what was probably shock and pulled her into his lap, tenderly wrapping his arms around her and rubbing the girl's back.

She knew she was probably drenched in blood and tears, but she couldn't bring herself to care as she threw her arms around Jason and sobbed loudly, distantly award of him moving his arms—probably to grab his phone out of his bag.

Jason whispered something and shoved his phone back into his bag, returning his hands to where they were on her lower back and rubbing in circles, murmuring soothing words in her ear.

Marinette flinched back after a few moments and grasped Jason's shoulders tightly. "M-Maybe s-she's still al-live!" Jason grimaced and shook his head.

"That's not a good idea- where are you going!" He widened his eyes in surprise when she jumped out of his hold and over to her mother.

She gulped down the extra saliva obstructing her airway and pressed a shaky hand—two fingers,— to her mother's neck.

No pulse.

She checked again and bit her lip in disbelief.

"Marinette." She shook her head and flinched away when Jason reached for her.

"Marinette." Blinking back tears, she turned to him and his eyes widened. She probably looked insane, crouching over her dead, bleeding mother.

"What do you want me to say, Jason! She's dead! The only person who's ever cared is dead!" The only person who's ever protected her from her dad is dead.

Dead.

Where was her dad? She looked around frantically for a possible sign that he was there; her hands started to shake violently against where they were resting against her thighs.

"Marinette, calm down. Help is arriving." She gasped and whipped her head to face him.

"H-help?" This was what she was afraid of.

No. Her dad deserved to go to fucking hell for what he did. Tarnishing her childhood when she could have had so much better.

She nodded and exhaled slowly. "Okay." As if magic willed him, Batman burst through the window, the shattered glass spilling onto the bloody floor.

She shot Jason a watery glare and her voice was thick with tears as she spoke. "This is help? How the hell do you even contact Batman?" Batman examined the room and approached Marinette.

"Can I help you stand, Miss?" She nodded and Batman gently pulled her up and laid a slightly comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Do you know who did this?" She nodded again; it's about time she tells someone, even if Batman isn't exactly the person that immediately comes to mind.   
  


her knees shook. She knew she needed to tell him.

_So tell_ him.

"My dad." The words broke a dam in the room, tension and anticipation spilling into the air. She looked down at her shoes, as if suddenly more interested in the blood-coated tennis shoes than Batman in the flesh.

The man laid a hesitant hand on her shoulder, not sure whether to comfort the girl or ask more questions about the situation.

He chose the latter. “Do you know where your dad is? And why he did this?” She shook her head no and started absentmindedly rubbing at an almost-healed bruise on her wrist she received from her fathers belt.

“He’s always been like this, I-He took it too far...this time.” This time. She had just admitted there were more than one or two instances where her father had physically abused her mother and herself. Fuck. It felt so damn good to tell someone.

The hand around her shoulder tightened and she sensed Jason coming up to hover slightly behind her. “This time?” His voice shook with anger as he spoke.

Batman shot him a stern glance and returned his gaze to Marinette. “Do you have anyone you can stay with?” She nodded. Fu would take her in. Hopefully for a little time while she gathered her bearings and had enough money to by her own apartment.

“Me. I’m her aunt.” Marinette’s eyes widened and she whipped her head around to see a very angry Fu.

Fu was frowning over at her mother with clenched fists, her body language rigid and tense.

“...Fu-“ Marinette shut her mouth from the concerned look Fu gave her and the woman raced over to her, squeezing her in a tight hug.

“I am so sorry I didn’t do anything sooner, I-“ She cut off with a shaky sob and tucked Marinette under her chin.

Batman grunt returned their attention back to him. “Do you know where your father might be?” She shook her head, she never knew where he went when he wasn’t at the bakery. She just knew he wasn’t with her mother.

***

They found him at a bar swaying dangerously on his damn seat, drunk out his mind, swatting at imaginary flies and whining about the AC.

He was taken to jail, obviously. He seemed to realize there was no way out of this and complied easily with being arrested.

He didn’t even spare a glance at his daughter as he was hauled into the car. Good riddance, she didn’t want to see his damn face anyway, probably littered with scratches from random bar fights and stubble across his chin.

Tom faced charges such as domestic abuse and first degree murder. He wouldn’t be emerging for a long time. Marinette wouldn’t be surprised if he died inside said clink.

Marinette sat stone-faced in one of the chairs in the police station. She didn’t know what to think without feeling guilty.

God, her father was in prison. She felt tremendously guilty for ratting him out, yet, she felt free. He wouldn’t be able to hurt her anymore.

Never again would she be a victim of child abuse. She exhaled and closed her eyes, an invisible weight lifted off her shoulders.

“Are you okay?” She cracked an eye open to find Jason sitting in the chair next to her, studying her.

She smiled and shook her head. She wouldn’t be okay for a long time, but the road to recovery starts now, and at least she had Jason to help her.

Jason drew her in for a hug and buried his face in her neck, his hot breath puffing across the back of her spine. “I’ll be here, I promise, Pixie.”

She shivered pleasantly and wrapped her arms across his broad frame. “Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “’I am not an angel,’ I asserted; ‘and I will not be one till I die: I will be myself.“
> 
> -Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre.
> 
> I really like the symbolism that this book brings to the chapter. Symbolism being child abuse. #sorrynotsorry
> 
> Anyways... talk about mood swings, am I right?
> 
> I plan to add more Allan later, do not fret my friends.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thus, begins the downwards spiral.
> 
> No warnings except for a cute timmy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I took so long to update. I was having a hard time trying to find the motivation to write.
> 
> You know when u got an idea, but you just can’t seem to put it into words?

Marinette grimaced from where she was laying, sweaty and boneless on the floor. "I can't do it!" 

Fu frowned from where she was standing over her. "You only ate half of your plate." Marinette groaned and rolled over on her stomach.

"Can we do something else? I don't like this game."

"Marinette, encouraging you to have a regular eating schedule is not a game. It is simply a livelihood."

"..."

"Fine." Rang Fu's mock-hurt voice. Marinette smiled from the clear fondness in her tone. "Join me on the couch, dear? I think it's time I tell you something before we go to the gala." Fu's heels clacked all the way over to one of the expensive leather couches by the huge window that took up almost the whole wall and patted the seat next to her.

Fu was a delicate little woman in her late fifties, yet she had the wisdom of a wise monk in their hundreds. Marinette suspected it was because of her thirty year experience in psychiatry.

The woman had her own office and was one of the most well-known psychiatrists in Gotham. This also made her a subject to robbery, but thanks to her advanced security system, minimal robberies occurred.

(She assumed.)

The woman was also invited to a number of Wayne Galas, extending her invite for a plus-one to Marinette. She was so excited, she even printed out business cards if people liked her work.

Fu had even let her design both of their dresses. The woman was a saint, and Marinette would praise her to hell and back.

She had never experienced love like this before.While it hurt to know her mother never had any faith in her, she was thrilled to finally experience it, and with her favorite woman, no less.

She settled into the cushion and Fu reached behind the couch and pulled out a brown music box with ancient Chinese encryptions decorating the sides and front.

Marinette furrowed her eyebrows and tilted her head. "What's this?" Fu smiled gently and pressed three buttons.

The music box suddenly flipped open and compartments all around the sides slid out into the open where she could see different pieces of colorful animal-themed jewelry. She stared dumbly as Fu started to explain.

"This is the Miracle Box. Inside are what the Gaurdians call Miraculouses..." Fu spent the next five minutes explaining in broad details what exactly the Miraculous were.

Marinette stared at the jewelry that seemed to be clawing for her attention, the red and black earrings in particular. She felt a pull towards them deep within her soul, as if they were meant for her. She carefully reached out a hand and grasped them in her palm.

"That is the Ladybug Miraculous." She gasped, suddenly feeling as if she had slept for three days straight and was burning with energy. It seemed to spread around her whole body as the earrings emitted a golden glow.

"It seems to have chosen you, Marinette." The glow erupted and with its absence, a tiny bug in its place. She stared at it, trying to wrack her brain of what it could possibly be.

Fu noticed her confusion and supplied the words for her. "This is what we call a kwami, Marinette. It's the God that resides in the earrings, a protector, as some would say."

The kwami smiled warmly at her, somehow, and started to speak in a squeaky, shrill voice. "My name is Tikki, it's so nice to meet another pure creation soul, I haven't had many, despite being alive since the beginning of time." Marinette gaped, dumbstruck by the bouts of information the kwami has just dumped on her.

_"Hold up_. Pure creation soul? What do you mean?" Tikki took a deep breath in preparation and rested herself beside the earrings on Marinette still-open palm.

"Marinette, you are a pure creation soul. You see, there are two types of souls humans have. Destruction and Creation. Many people have these types of souls, but most of the people on earth do not. I am the goddess of Creation, and my counterpart, Plagg, is the god of Destruction.

"It is very rare for even the souls who are blessed with Creation and Destruction, to have a pure soul. You are special, Marinette. I intend to utilize it and help you grow into, hopefully, one of my best protectors of the Miraculous."

Tikki then turned to Fu, who was smiling at the small God. "Fu is one of my Creation souls, but she does not have a pure one, so she matched with one of the other miraculous, the turtle.

"The turtle represents wisdom and Fu had the perfect amount of both Creation and Destruction to wield it."

Marinette sat, slouched and open-mouthed, trying to figure out if it was all real.

There was still one thing bothering her, though.

_"You-you've been alive since the beginning of time?"_

*

Marinette squinted through the bright flashing on the cameras that seemed to be enveloping her whole and tightened her death grip on Fu’s dainty yet muscled arm.

Fu was wearing a deep-red kimono with shiny golden stitches that took Marinette a whole month to finish, but it was worth it too see the woman dressed so elegantly, with a long slitted skirt and flowers that seemed to climb their way down the dress. The woman wore her hair in an elegant low bun with black and gold chopsticks holding the hairstyle in place. Overall, Fu looked amazing.

Marinette was wearing a matching light pink kimono with vines and flowers scarce from the amount of leaves she stitched on the soft fabric. It would be overbearing if Marinette didn’t know how to how to properly accentuate the designs, but she did, and it seemed the perfect amount of silver stitching.

Fu gently smiled down at Marinette and led them inside the ballroom. The flashing stopped and Marinette was finally able to focus on the scene around her. There was a woman in a green floor-length dress striding toward them, her heels clacking on the polished floor seeming to be a threat, and her hair flowed elegantly with the slight breeze coming from the cracked doors.

Marinette would have shitted herself right there if not for the cute little black-haired boy hot on her trail, looking as equally frightened as she felt.

Fu smiled warmly at the woman. “Janet, what a wonderful surprise, your back from your trip so soon?” Janet smiled beautifully at Fu and wrapped the older woman in a hug before letting go and smoothing her dress.

“I had to come back when I found out you were coming, old friend.” She turned her gaze to Marinette, the look in her eyes cold and calculating before she extended her smile to the teen.

“This is the new ward you spoke of? You didn’t tell me she was this pretty.” Janet spoke as she dangled one of Marinette’s curls in her thin, polished fingers. Marinette fought the urge to shudder and smiled back at Janet.

“Thank you, Mrs...” She trailed off, eyeing Janet to finish her sentence with an answer.

“Drake, dear. Your welcome.” Janet turned back to Fu, clearly intent on catching up, so she turned to the little boy fiddling with his fingers. She crouched down to his eye level and smiled at him.

  
  


“Hi, I’m Marinette. What’s your name?” The little boy stared at her in shock with his bright blue eyes and stuttered his answer out.

“T-Tim.” Her smile grew wider and she held her hand out for him to take.

“Do you wanna come with me to go get food, Tim?” Tim nodded eagerly and placed his soft hand in hers. Her heart suddenly felt warm for the little boy and led him to the table where the refreshments sat.

She picked up a brownie and inspected it, then turned to Tim and offered it to him. “Do you like brownies?” He stared at her for a moment, then nodded and took the brownie from her offering hands.

He tentatively put the brownie in his mouth and chewed slowly, wiping any possible stray crumbs from his mouth with his tiny hand.

  
he seriously looked to be about seven, but she suspected he was a little older.

She smiled at the boy and ruffled his hair. “You are so cute! Has anyone ever told you that?” She giggled and Tim blushed and shook his head.

This kid was hers.

He was hers, screw Janet. She was stealing him from her.

“Can I adopt you?” Tim widened his eyes at her, seemingly shocked, until she realized he wasn’t staring at her, but directly behind her.

She straightened from her crouch and turned around to see Jason smirking devilishly. And oh, man, did he look handsome with his dark curly hair and mischievous aquamarine orbs.

She blushed as his eyes trailed down her body. “Jason. I didn’t know you’d be here.” His eyes found hers again, a teasing glint in them.

“Princess, I’m Bruce Wayne’s ward or some shit. ‘Course I’d be here.” She blushed harder, this time from embarrassment and turned her attention back to Tim.

He was staring at Jason with wonder in his eyes, as if he was a superhero who just saved his life.

“Tim? You alright?” Tim nodded distractedly and reached for her hand again. She squeezed his back, comforting him and Jason spoke up, obviously confused.

“Who’s this?”

“My son. He’s mine now.” Jason choked and Tim beamed at her.

*

Jason was not happy.

Felipe Garzonas slipped from that balcony. Jason did not push him off, yet he was suspended from patrol anyway.

It made him mad to see that Bruce didn't even believe him, take his word above all else even when Jason specifically said he did not push him off.

So obviously, if you were Jason Todd and you liked to fuck shit up, you were going to take out all of your frustrations out on your girlfriend's bully.

Ex-boyfriend, whatever. The bastard deserved it, thinking he could lay a _finger_ on Marinette-

( Jason rolled into the hallways, making a beeline for his new girlfriends locker. He grinned giddily at the thought, who knew such an amazing woman would like him enough to be his girlfriend?

His grin slowly fell into a frown when he saw the infuriating head of blonde standing- no, _harassing_ Marinette, _his_ _girlfriend_.

No way in hell was this happening again. His leisurely stroll turned into a medium-heavy stomp and he grabbed blonde boy's shoulder and whipped the bitch around.

"Todd. Wayne kick you out for getting into too many fights yet? You know what they say, ‘once a street rat, always a street rat.” Agreste paused, looking him up and down, “Looking good, by the way." Adrien grinned and Jason ignored his jab in favor of punching his ugly mouth.

He vaguely heard Marinette gasp and yell his name as he started to beat Agreste into the ground with his bear fists.

Agreste didn’t even put up that much of a fight, flailing his frail arms around as if he was trying to land a hit on Jason.

Jason grinned sharply and knocked out his tooth.

That should do it, he thought as he looked at the many bruises and cracked teeth on Agreste's face. He let out the deep breath he had been holding and smiled at Marinette.

Marinette, who looked terrified of him.

Marinette, who's hands were shaking as they closed in around her mouth, tears forming around her pretty blue eyes.

Fuck, how could he be so stupid? His eyes widened and he dropped his smile in favor of a shocked expression.

Shit. She was running away now, probably hated him and never wanted to see his ugly face _ever_ _again_ -

He deserved it, for putting her through that. God, assaulting someone in front of her when her physically abusive dad was just recently put into jail?

He was going to Hell.

“Ahem.” Came a disappointed voice. He rolled his eyes.)

“Really, Jason? Assaulting another student because he was touching Miss Dupain-Chang on the shoulder?” Bruce shot him a tired glare and pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers.

“The fucker deserved it, B! You didn’t see how uncomfortable she looked!” To be honest, he didn’t either, caught up in all his rage from merely seeing the boy, but Marinette made it clear of her distaste for the boy.

He didn’t want to see anything bad happen to her, or he would kill somebody.

Actually this time. (He didn’t kill Garzonas, but he damn wishes he did.)

“In addition to your suspension from school, I will also be extending your suspension from patrol.” Jason felt his heart drop.

“Are you fuckin kiddin’ me?” He spouted, anger clear in his voice as he ignored Bruce’s “language, Jason.” He continued, “I wasn’t gonna just leave her like that! Fuck you!” He shot up from the chair in Bruce’s office and stormed out, slamming the door closed behind him.

_“Once a street rat, always a street rat.”_

He snarled and punched the wall beside him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “It was written I should be loyal to the nightmare of my choice.”
> 
> -Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness.
> 
> TINY TIMMY TINY TIMMY.
> 
> Also yes, people did like Marinette’s designs and yes, she has a lot of commissions and ran out of business cards...
> 
> Fu also gave her a phone and a computer. That wasn’t written but I want you to acknowledge it. 
> 
> Peace!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You might get really mad at Marinette in this but I want you to remember that no one in this story has a real, clear path to good or bad. We all make mistakes and learn from them. Good people do bad things all the time, and vice versa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 😬😬😬

_Marinette grinned as she continued to speed-talk excitedly about her weekend from across the table._

_“-And she even offered to bake with me! Maman never let me bake with her.” Her grin slightly faltered at the end of her sentence but she quickly picked it back up and narrowed her eyes at Jason._

_“Why are you looking at me like that?” He didn’t even realize he had been staring at her until she said something. He flushed._

_“You’re beautiful, you know that?”_

Some people see life as a road. Bendy or straight, they can see themselves doing something concrete and living a boring, safe life, with a job in accounting or something. Doing the same thing for the rest of your life.

Jason didn't see life as a road, not anymore. When he lived primarily on the streets, he knew he was going to die on the streets, and that was his road. The road had several cracks and potholes, but it was a clear one. He knew how it ended.

When Bruce Wayne adopted him, his road changed dramatically. Suddenly, he wasn't going to die on the streets. Suddenly, he had food and shelter. Suddenly, he was a vigilante.

The road grew foggy and dark. It was a constant path full of cracks, fresh orange road paint and sporadic corn fields.

No, Jason didn't see life as a road, not when it took every chance to throw you off track. So when he stared up at the locked door of the warehouse he had been brutally tortured in, blood and tears mixed with sweat running down his face and his torn up Robin costume, he thought about the damn road-

Marinette. He hadn’t told her anything. Hadn’t told her about the costume he donned at night to fight crooks and big villains, didn’t tell her about going to Ethiopia to meet his mother. She didn’t need him. She would be better off without him, especially after he blew up in her face about the thought that had been haunting him-

Dick. They hadn’t gotten off to a good start, but Dick had finally taken the initiative to try to be a good brother after Jason told him about Marinette. How he took them to the museum, where he realized that he liked Marinette.

Bruce. Bruce was an asshole, but he was there for Jason. He sat there with a fond look on his face when Jason babbled about Marinette for an hour straight and suspended him from patrol when Felipe Garzonas fell off of that roof.

It wasn’t Bruce’s fault he got suspended.

Everything was Jason’s fault. He would never see Marinette’s white teeth, smiling up at him with the most beautiful expression he had ever seen again.

He would never hear again about how Fu encouraged and helped her move on from her mother and father, and how the woman would show her compassion, something Marinette had never gotten an inkling of in her sixteen years.

Jason would never get to kiss her again.

The bomb started to beep, so he stared at his mother, the sight of her crying in front of him, while his bruised, broken hand flopped down from the locked handle of the warehouse, his face burning from when the Joker carved a J into his skin with a rusty knife, giggling to him about how he should smile.

So he did. He smiled, thinking about his life. A damn eventful one, but he was grateful.

-his road, the road that came to an end.

\- before. -

Jason stared at the piece of paper in front of him. His birth certificate.

Catherine Todd was not his mother.

Or, at least, the letter on which was supposed to be his mother's name was not a C.

An S.

The remaining letters were scribbled out, as if somebody had expected him to go rummaging through his past and papers. Like someone didn’t want him to know that his mother was not his mother.

He didn't know what to feel. Mad, that no one told him? Angry, that he had to live his childhood in a grimy apartment and fighting for his life on the streets? Surprised? Happy?

Fuck. Who was this woman? Was she still alive? Where even is she? Did she even care if he was alive?

He was going to find her. Wherever she was, and he would finally meet someone who loved him.

"Marinette?" She flinched visibly, slamming the locker door harder than needed, and he grimaced. Marinette turned around and sent him a shaky smile, fiddling with the textbook on her hands.

"Yes, Jason?" Her eyes seemed to be looking anywhere but his, shooting frantically from side to side. He sighed, running and impatient hand through his unruly hair and blurted out the question that had been haunting his mind since-

"Are you scared of me?" Her eyebrows jumped while her eyes shot to his and he could see a glimmer of confusion.

"W-what? Why would I be scared of you?" _The stuttering for one, maybe it's because I beat up your ex-boyfriend in front of you, kinda like how your dad used to beat you?_

"I'm not dumb, Marinette." Her eyebrows furrowed and she reached up to nervously fiddle with an unrecognizable pair of black studs decorating her earlobes.

Weird. He didn't remember seeing those.

"Honestly, what is going on? Y-you're confusing me." She took a step back to peer into his eyes. Jason could see her skittishness from a mile away, but up close it was frightening how it took over her whole pupil, shooting back and forth from Jason to the students walking to their classes behind him.

"I'm not scared of you, Jason. I..."

"What is it, then?"

"I-I just-" Marinette cut off, silently pleading with her eyes. Jason scoffed and turned away, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

Marinette didn't need him. He would just slow her down, eventually. He'd seen her grow immensely in the past few months, while he'd been in the corner, silently watching.

She didn't want him, but he was sure his mother would.

She didn't want him. And that hurt.

-

Marinette gulped down her desperate cry for Jason to turn around and walk back so she could explain herself to him.

She wasn't scared of him at all, no. That was not the problem whatsoever, would never be the problem with Jason.

It was a pretty good coverup, a dick move, nonetheless, but he would get over it and they would go back to normal in a few days.

Fu had just granted her the privilege to wear the earrings, and don't get her wrong, she was ecstatic, but she had never been able to keep a secret, so while she had been cornered by her boyfriend, she had just been talking to her kwami, and had nervously jumped and slammed her locker on accident.

The moment had left her nervous, for she had almost been caught conversing with a tiny god who was centuries old, and she was skittish for the entirety of their part one-sided accusement part "conversation."

She really hadn't meant to project her nervousness toward the boy, it just couldn't be blanketed fast enough.

No one could no that she was training to be a damn superhero, because who would believe that a sixteen year old girl in a tight red spandex suit was tasked to destroy a glowing green pit that was centuries old?

She just wish the suit didn’t have those damn goggles. She absolutely could not see through them.

She sighed shakily, feeling her heart drop as Jason disappeared from her view. “Tikki, what do I do?”

Tikki popped out from her blazer pocket and frowned at her.

“There’s nothing you can do, Marinette. It’s either you protect him from the truth or-“

“Yeah, yeah. I know.”

“I just wish it didn’t have to be so hard.”

-

Marinette gulped down her nervousness as she walked up the steps to the Wayne Manor.

It was late and she was freezing her ass off, but the guilt and confusion repeatedly gnawing at her finally won her over and she stormed out of her soft bed at 2 A.M. to drive over to the Manor.

Jason hadn’t been at school all week.

_It’s your fault_.

Surely it wasn’t her fault.

...Right?

It had to have been her fault. After he stormed off, she hadn’t seen him the rest of the day, not even in the library.

She usually found him in the library, his nose in a wrinkly old literature book, admiring and drinking in the words and phrases on the discolored page.

It was fascinating to see such a scene, her boyfriend, observing his expression to be one of the most beautiful and enchanting sights to see. He looked absolutely enthralled when he was reading, all attention on his book.

He wasn’t in the library, the chair he usually sat on empty and barren; lifeless the chair sat, tucked into one of the tables near the Gothic Literature section.

He hadn’t been in the library for a week now. No trace of him sat on the chair or in Fu’s kitchen, when he would come over and just talk to her.

Talk to her about his books.

She was shook out of her daze when Alfred cautiously opened the door, rubbing the sleep from his worn eyes.

He seemed older, more aged than when she had last seen him.

“Miss Marinette, a lovely surprise, though I wish it was a few hours later...” he fixed her with a raised eyebrows that she couldn’t help but flush under his gaze.

“I-I’m sorry, Alfred. I just haven’t seen Jason in a while.” As soon as she uttered his name, Alfreds demeanor changed dramatically. His tired eyes grew even more tired and exhausted, and she could see the years running through them.

She gulped nervously. “Is he here?” Alfred stared at her with a pinched, sad face and she started to feel the anticipation sink through her veins.

“Mr. Alfred?” She felt it wasn’t appropriate to use his first name when he was obviously feeling under the weather, because the blank look on his face surely couldn’t be from the mention of Jason.

“You might want to come in, Miss.” her eyes widened. Was that really necessary? She stepped in and walked through the foyer to the living room where Alfred sat her down on one of the couches and took his own seat in front of her.

And told her that her boyfriend was a superhero.

“Sorry, what?” She laughed humorlessly, placing rather harshly a clammy hand on her knee. Is this what Alfred was so sad about?

Alfred’s grimace told her that wasn’t all.

“Miss Marinette, Master Jason would want me to tell you that he was Robin.” She stopped laughing and looked questioningly at Alfred. Something about his use of verb tense threw her off.

“Was?” She coughed when her voice came out crackly and Alfred shot her a concerned look and continued to speak in short bursts.

“Miss Marinette, Jason has...passed.” Her heart broke into pieces, then sank into her stomach. The jittery feeling she had felt just moments before increased, the shaking of her hand now visible to even her distorted eyesight, which was now blurring with tears.

“S-Sorry, what-t?” She stuttered, finally feeling the warm tears slink down her freezing cheeks. This couldn’t be real, no. Alfred was messing with her.

But why did it feel so damn real?

“How? H-he was j-just here! I jus-st s-saw him a week ago!” Her voice slurred between hiccups and sobs and her shaky hand was now pulling at her dark blue hair, pulling and pulling until she felt the hairs being ripped out of her skull.

It felt good.

“Miss Marinette, please calm down. I will tell you everything.”

...

Numb. She felt numb, seeing his grave being lowered into the ground.

Numb, as she placed petunias next to the large gray stone that bore his name with cold, shaking fingers.

The only other people present were Bruce himself, Alfred, and Jim and Barbara Gordon. Why? She didn’t know, but it was nice to not have the place crowded with cameras flashing and people yelling so much she couldn’t hear herself think-

No. They were alone.

She never truly understood how frightful yet peaceful being alone was, despite being mostly alone her whole leading life.

She turned to Bruce a couple of minutes after Jim and Barbara left. “You... are Batman.” He nodded stiffly, not bothering to take his hands out of his pockets to do something, anything with them.

Use them to explain why he let Jason die in an abandoned warehouse all the way in Ethiopia?

Use them to reach up and wipe his freezing tears?

“Why?” Her whisper was shaky and soft, but she knew Bruce caught it. He was trained to, after all.

He gritted his teeth. “I suspended him. He was angry.” She shook her head. It still didn’t make sense as to why he would go looking for his mother, a grown, unfamiliar woman, if he was suspended.

Was she not enough?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Often enough, the blue feeling that is sporadically left in my wits is the one to leave with me with greater sense of inspiration and motivation. I wish it would not.”
> 
> I felt it wasn’t appropriate to type in a quote from a book for this chapter, so I came up with one. It’s a feeling that lingers with me a lot, and a quote I hope corresponds well with this depressing chapter. Tell me what you think in the comments!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy fuck I thought this was chapter ten? I am sooooo behind.

_Pain_. An emotion that visited and settled deep in her wary bones often enough Marinette usually forgot it was there.

Whether is was a blinding pain or a dull ache, the pain never seemed to fully resolve itself, latching itself onto Marinette like a parasite and eating away at any lingering hope or what was left of her happiness.

She didn't deserve an ounce of happiness. Not when her boyfriend had gone missing for a week and she didn't seem to realize he had been dead.

What kind of girlfriend doesn't seem to notice that?

She shivered from her place burrowed under the warm, tear-stained sheets, wondering how fucked up she was in the head to have missed such an obvious sign that he was hurting.

Hurting, when she pushed him away in favor of becoming her own hero. She chuckled humorlessly at the irony and turned over to face the glowing green star stickers stuck to her ceiling.

" _Jason!" She giggled as he picked her up and threw her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and turned around in place, purposely swinging her around so she hit his back repeatedly._

_"Did you hear anything? I don't think-" He cut off with a wheeze, barely able to restrain his laugh as she hit his back, hard._

_"Ouch!" He yelped in faux pain, "Okay, letting you down now." He set her down on the bed and grabbed the pack of glowing green ceiling stickers._

_"You really want to put these on your ceiling?" She glared at him. He gulped and ripped open the plastic package in haste to relieve himself of the glare he was receiving._

_"I never got to decorate my room in the bakery." She took one of the slips of paper from his hands and studied it with a fond look. He melted, seeing her excited face and bright eyes, and he suddenly found he couldn't care less about the childishness of it all._

_He nodded and without a word started to slap the stars on the ceiling._

The sight of the sickly green stars almost made her want to throw up. Her eyes suddenly started leaking tears again. It had been an on and off occurrence for about a week when she took off school to mourn the death of the most important person in her life.

She hadn't had the liberty of being a major person in his life for more than a blip in his seventeen years, but she would like to think she would be worthy of his secrets and worries.

But how could she say that when she was the one who kept the most secrets? He hadn't even known about her dad until her mother's sickly pale, dead face was staring up at her with bloodshot eyes.

What a horrible way to come home, right?

Marinette was no stranger to death, it's sharp, black claws repeatedly reaching for her, yet it always seemed miss her by an inch and grasp onto the person closest to her and rip them away.

Hell, there were times where it almost succeeded. When she would almost black out in the middle of her cold, dusty floor with blood pooling around her mutilated body, silently screaming for someone, anyone. Death, even, to finally achieve its task of getting to her.

She couldn't imagine what it was like to let your life slip away after all of that. To completely give up, even when you so badly wanted to.

But Jason hadn't given up, hadn't he? She would like to imagine that in his last moments of life in that damned warehouse he fought and fought hard for a way out.

She wondered if he went to heaven. He was troubled, yes. But what a wonderful heart he had, giving food and money to the kids on the street, tipping the poor servers and workers at old, run-down diners they frequented.

So, so different from the Jason who beat up her ex-boyfriend, yet the same person.

Despite who he had become to be, she believed that if anyone was worthy of going to heaven, it would be Jason Todd. Robin.

She gritted her teeth.

"You can't keep doing this, dear." She hadn't noticed the door opened until Fu popped her head in. She groaned and rolled over to her stomach.

"Yes, I can." Fu's heels clacked as she strode over to the bed and sat beside Marinette's leg and stroked her back.

"This is destructive behavior, peanut. Tell me what's going on." Fu's gentle voice brought her back to tears and she sat up, her lip trembling as she angrily wiped away tears.

"I could have done something to stop him, anything! Fu, I didn't even realize he was _gone_ until he was dead! Blown up in a warehouse in goddamned _Ethiopia_!" It was no secret she felt guilty about his death, but saying it out loud?

She might be feeling more guilty than she originally thought.

Fu shifted so that she was sitting right next to Marinette and put a delicate hand on her shoulder.

"Marinette, believe it or not, I was once in the same situation as you." Marinette whipped her head to the side and stared at Fu questioningly.

"Who?" She asked in a shaky voice.

"My friend, Jacqueline, died of a stroke. We were only fifteen, had our whole lives ahead of us."

_Fu furrowed her eyebrows at her best friend. They had been walking on the street at dusk, chatting about whatever came to mind when, suddenly, her friend started to trip and stumble too often to be called normal._

_“Hey, are you okay? I know you’re clumsy, but this is a new record.” She laughed softly, enjoying her hot breath becoming a smoke-like substance at the edge of her lips._

_“I’m really dizzy, can we sit down?” Again, the confusion, hit her and she couldn’t do anything but nod. They sat down together and she turned to her pale friend._

_“Better now?”_

_“Not quite.” She gasped, bringing a hand up to her mouth. “Jackie, can you lift both of your arms up for me?” Jacqueline gave her a weird look._

_“Why?” Her friends face was morphed into one of confusion, but only half of it was projecting her emotion. The other half was limp and pale._

_“Do it.” She snapped. Jacqueline lifted her right hand, but her left arm did not rise with it._

_“You need to go to a hospital, and now.”_

“We never got to the hospital on time.” Marinette felt her heart shatter into pieces, or, what was left of it.

"My point is, Marinette. Jacqueline was the most important person in my life at the time. I didn't know what I would do without her, but today, she's a wonderful memory. One that I'll never forget.

"I'm not saying you have to move on right now, absolutely not. Take a moment to think and mourn for Jason, and I think you'll find what you're looking for." Marinette's tears spilled down her cheeks as she sobbed into Fu's arms.

The pain was more physical now, when Fu knocked her down in training and clicked her tongue to the roof of her mouth. "Mari, honey. Your form is terrible."

Yet it was still there, the emotional pain. It weighed her down, every step felt like she had a fifty-pound brick on her chest.

"If your going to go out on the streets you need to improve your stance, like-" Marinette cut her off with a groan.

"Why do I even need to go out on the streets of Gotham? I can just go to Nanda Parbat and destroy the damn pit, no problem. Right?" Fu rolled her eyes and sighed.

"Marinette, there are ninjas."

"I know!" She seethed, jumping up off the ground to rear into Fu's face. "I know there are ninjas, I just-I can't- not with him-" Her face crumpled and she let out a sob.

"I can't, I- he's everywhere I go, I can't do this- I'm not good enough!" Pain and guilt flooded through her once more, the same dam breaking over and over again. So many times she's had to ask herself:

When will it _stop_?

She didn't look up at Fu, knowing the woman would slap a pitiful look on her face and try to hug Marinette, but Marinette didn't want a hug.

She just wanted to be left alone.

When she was left alone in the attic of the quaint bakery she had lived in for sixteen years, she usually felt safe, knowing her dad was out, somewhere and probably no going to be back for a few hours so she could just...let it out.

Let it all out. She cried and cried up in that attic for hours, never once stopping to grab a tissue or a stuffed animal; she had let the tears flow down her face as snot clogged her nostrils.

Because that's what she was used to.

Everything in her life had changed so dramatically all at once and she finally felt like she couldn't catch up to everyone. They were miles ahead of her, only their heads and a vague outline of their bodies visible from where she was lying on the ground, calling, reaching for someone. Anyone to reach out their hand and haul her up and tell her it was gonna be okay.

Until Fu reached down and grabbed her arm, pulling her close and wrapping her arms around Marinette's middle. "I think," she paused, giving her an oddly calming look, "That once you get on those streets, you might find the peace your looking for."

And so she transformed into her superhero persona. The spandex suit was mostly black with red gloves and calf-high boots. A red belt sat on her hips with two enchanted pouches, feeding her red and black weapons at her command.

On her face were oversized black tinted goggles, hiding her identity.

"Ready, Ladybird?" And for the first time in two weeks, she smiled, even if it was a little strained, and nodded.

Ladybird flew across the rooftops with her flexible black leather rope, latching it around nearby rooftop poles and zooming through the foggy night sky.

Is this was Jason used to see when he ran around as Robin?

A beautiful city, she was. Really. Marinette spent days walking dogs as a freelance job scoffing at the grimy walls and rubble-filled streets, when really, Gotham was a diamond in the rough.

Stars and the occasional open light lit up the city, bringing in a new perspective from the city she had grown to hate, more so when the one person she loved had been ripped away from the damned city, permitting its walls to close in and condemn her.

She finally stopped at the edge of a brick rooftop and looked out over the edge.

Something in the edge of her vision. She turned her head slightly and gasped.

Batman. He was looking right at her. She turned her body toward the direction Batman was standing in and slowly walked toward him, at the other end of the rooftop.

"Who are you." He growled in a deep voice, as if it wasn't a question, but a command. She decided to play it safe and not project her bitter feelings toward the man in her voice.

"Ladybird." He opened his mouth, but she cut him off. "I'm no meta, Batman. I'm sure you're familiar with the Lazarus Pit." Batman closed his mouth and nodded.

"I'm tasked to destroy the last one, which happens to be in the mountains. It is no ordinary pit, but I'm sure you already knew of that fact."

"How old are you?” She widened her eyes and fumbled for a response to throw him off, but ultimately decided honesty wasn’t key with the big bat.

“Sixteen. I’m sixteen.” Batman’s mouth twitched in surprise.

“I have to do this. I was wondering if you would be so kind to let me help you out on these streets for a little while. Practice.” She added, when she still felt he would say no.

“No.” Her jaw dropped.

“Why the hell not?” She seethed. Batman stalked a little closer to her and she backed up harshly. From the proximity, she could see the tired lines on his face and the sheer exhaustion. He obviously hadn’t been getting enough sleep since-

“You’re too young.” The growl in his voice left her slightly uncomfortable when she knew how bubbly Bruce Wayne’s voice could be, but she prattled on in instant anger.

How _dare_ he call her too young when he let Jason out on the streets at twelve years old.

“Too young? Too young! I could say so many things to that, Bruce, but I won’t-“

“What did you say?” She furrowed her eyebrows at the surprised tone in his voice.

“What? What did I say?” She looked down for a moment, then shot up her head and gasped, Batman was now standing right in front of her and gripping her arm and tugging it so harshly she thought it would break.

Fuck, that wasn’t good. She’d have to abort that plan, now.

“Wait! Let me explain! I-“ she gasped again, feeling the pressure in her arm snap and an exploding pain follow in its wake.

“Shit! Fucking hell, Batman! It’s me! Marinette.” She wheezed the last part, partly in pain, and partly so all of Gotham wouldn’t figure her identity out on the first night she donned the suit.

Finally, the pressure released and she dropped to her knees, gritting her teeth. She looked up at Batman through blurry eyes and grimaced. He wasn’t looking at her, probably in shame.

Good.

“Are you gonna let me talk now?” Bruce only nodded minutely.

“I-I need to do this, Bruce. If you aren’t going to let me do it here, I’ll go somewhere else. But I- you know I have to, right? That pit is...

“It’s dangerous, Ive learned every little detail about it from my mentor a-and I need to destroy it with the proper training.”

Batman let out a low growling noise. “Fine. Stay out of my way.” She whooped and winced in pain.

“My arms still broken.” He grunted and nodded his head, a sign to follow him.

She did so with shaky hands. Previous events aside, she still had a distaste for the man.

He let her boyfriend die. She gritted her teeth and threw her rope with her good hand.

The good thing about magical suits and tiny gods, was that her arm didn’t stay broken for long. When she detransformed, Tikki immediately rushed to her arm and started hovering over it, a golden glow emitting from her nubs of hands.

She later finds out that Dick was in space two weeks following Jason’s death and no one found it in themselves to tell him.

She glared at the ground. Dick was probably beating himself up for this, but Bruce didn’t care.

No, Bruce didn’t care that his son disappeared for a week and only when it was too late found his battered, dead, limp, cold body?

_Anger_ , Fu said, was a stage of grief.

She wasn’t angry, but she was totally fucking furious. It ran through her veins, she grew so unbelievably mad, the unrational part of her brain whispered and shouted at the same time to do something, anything.

She didn’t. She sat on a medical bed in the Bat Cave and let the muscles in her leg twitch repeatedly.

“Miss Marinette, are you okay?” She shook her head furiously, angry tears welling up in her eyes.

“No.” She croaked. She thought she could do this. Stay strong for Jason.

Turned out she couldn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “The dwindling of life; how year by year her share was sliced; how little the margin that remained was capable any longer of stretching, of absorbing, as in the youthful years, the colours, salts, tones of existence.”
> 
> -Mrs. Dalloway, Virginia Woolf.
> 
> I got really angry at my piano and decided to write that last tidbit. You're welcome. Breaking your arm is not fun, especially when Batman is the one who broke it. Oof.
> 
> Batman didn’t break mine, but the stairs did. I fell down.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FUCK BATMAN

Anger. One of the last stages of the grief that would not seem to pass her. She was constantly angry, and instead of taking her anger out with smashing vases, she'd taken to screaming.

Screaming in Walmart, really. Could you blame her? The fucking _audacity_ those employees have to leave the microphone unattended? That microphone sang out to her: _Marinette! Please use me and burst all the eardrums of your fellow shoppers! They deserve it for being total fuckbags!_

She had gotten thrown out, but the stern look on Fu's face afterward didn't phase her. She was too focused on the crescent shaped welts imbedded in her palms that never seemed to heal; Everytime her platelets formed a scab, she'd lose thirty minutes to a panic attack and return back to full consciousness with dark red blood streaming down her wrists and arms.

With gritted teeth, she silently cursed the damning cuts on her hand. She’d thought she’d never have to bleed again.

Fu grimaced and grabbed her bleeding hands, wiping up the blood with a tissue. "Banned from _Walmart_? Really, Marinette? They're the only place who has your favorite coffee creamer."

She bit her now trembling lip and willed herself to not cry. She only bought that creamer because Jason liked to put it in her black-as-her-soul coffee to enjoy it because 'your tongue is broken, Pixie. It doesn't know what it wants.'

The bottle was half-empty and sitting on the shelf next to the almond milk, never to be used again.

probably rotting, too.

Fu caught on to the sheen in her eye and changed the subject. "How has online school been going?" She sighed and settled deeper into the dining room chair. The least she could do was entertain her guardian—double meaning, I know— and tell her something, even if it was as small as school progress.

"Fine." At Fu's raised eyebrow, she gulped and carried on. (She was almost as scary as Alfred.)

(Almost.)

"It's easier to not have to hide my tears every five seconds, I guess. I-I- Allan has been asking where I'm at." Fu tilted he head at that.

"The blonde one? I haven't seen him in a while, how is he?" Marinette glared at the older woman.

"Peachy. Fu, I don't know what to tell him, 'hey, my boyfriend died and I switched to online school, but how are you!'" She glared at the ground and itched to throw something.

That wall is looking pretty unscathed, maybe she should-

"Exactly that." Her eyes darted up to stare incredulously at the older woman who gave her a gentle smile and sat down on the chair beside hers.

"It doesn't need to be complicated, Mari." Marinette sighed as Fu lightly scraped her nails therapeutically over her scalp.

"Maybe you're right." She closed her eyes and leaned her head against her guardian's shoulder, letting sleep finally consume her.

*

Ladybird flipped up her goggles and stared at the museum from a gargoyle resting on a nearby building.

"Are you sure we can just bust in there? What if they have guns?" Batman spared a bored, angry glance at her before flying off the gargoyle next to her and gliding to the museum.

"Whatever, don't answer my questions. It wasn't like I needed to _know_ or anything." She muttered under her breath.

She was about to jump off the gargoyle when she spotted a figure on the neighboring rooftop out of the corner of her eye.

What?

She slightly turned her head so they wouldn't suspect her of looking at them and got a closer look. The figure was small and dressed in a hoodie. With a camera hanging from their neck.

Hell no. Batman could deal with Penguin's fat ass alone. This was way more interesting than some shitty rogue business.

She slinked down from the gargoyle and latched her leather whip—much like Catwomans, (her goddamn idol, don't judge her)— and vaulted herself down the building.

The kid, she had now deduced, wasn't alerted of her presence when she stepped down onto the rooftop they were resting on.

Until she sat down and swung her legs over the edge. The figure jumped and stuttered.

"O-oh my! L-ladybird, it's you!" She she gave the small boy—she knew, now— an unimpressed look and huffed, stretching out onto the rooftop with a bored look to the sky.

"What are you doing out here, kid? Don't you know stalking isn't flattering as much as the movies make it out to be?" She darted her hand out to snatch the boy's hood down and did a double take.

"Holy- Tim?" She sat up and dropped her jaw in shock.

He was wearing caked concealer on his face and his eyes had more baggage under them than the last she’d seen him.

She hadn't seen much of the kid after that gala, only the occasional name drop from Janet when she was visiting Fu, but she was fond of the little boy.

He was awkward, really, but it was cute. In like... a little brother way. It almost reminded her of herself.

Tim rubbed his neck and looked down before shooting his head up again, barely suppressing a flinch of obvious pain that she narrowed her eyes at. "Wait, Ladybird knows my name?" Tim blushed and put on the face of an excited puppy. She mentally cooed before clearing her throat.

"Enough about me, what are you doing? Do you know how dangerous this is?" And right next to Crime Alley, too. She hated that place. He bit his lip and guilt shown through his eyes before she sighed.

The closer she looked at him, the more worried she got. It was almost as if he was wearing concealer for the exact same reason-

"I know, Marinette, I just love taking pictures of the scenery." She nodded in understanding before whipping her head back to him.

Fuck. Fu was going to kill her for this.

"Y-you.." Tim had the decency to put on a pale, panicked look and try to scramble away before she grabbed onto his collar.

"You! I-" she cut herself off with a choked gasp and grabbed his hoodie collar to stop him from getting too far. Tim gulped and fiddled with his thumbs nervously.

How old was this kid? Ten?

"I'm twelve, actually." The boy's meek voice snapped her out of her confusional haze and she realized she said that out loud.

"Holy crap, and you already know my identity? Fucking how? I've only been patrolling for, like, half a month." She got up in his face and studied his ice-blue eyes.

"How? What else do you know?" She whispered, surprised by his sudden blank face.

The blank face she put on when she was forced to be in the presence of her father. Her grip faltered slightly so that both of his feet were completely touching the ground.

"Well, it wasn't that hard to know you've been around Bruce-Batman-fudge!" Tim went red and she widened her eyes even more.

"Buh- what?" He also knew Batman's identity? She gritted her teeth and went to open her mouth again before a gloved hand _snatched_ her arm away-

_The little girl blinked away her tears and shakily reached for her mother's hand, only to have her arm violently torn away by the man next to her._

_Her lip trembled and her father glared down at her. She gulped and forced an indifferent expression on her face before sitting down on the creaky chair next to her mother's hospital bed, silently letting the tears fall and staring down at the rapidly forming bruise on her thin arm._

Marinette gasped for sweet air and steeled herself, glaring up at Batman who was studying Tim, but she knew he could feel her glower on the back of his neck.

"Ladybird." He greeted with a slight growl, "Who's this." If she was right about her suspicions, Tim must be terrified right now. Hell, even she was scared of the big bat, even more so now that a new terrible memory she forgot existed bubbled to the surface.

Still, she had to tell him about Tim.

"This is Tim, my friend." He glanced at her in shock and anger for partially giving out her identity at the statement, but he hadn't heard their conversation, seen the queues on that little boys face to know he was probably shaking right now without her even having to spare a glance.

She did anyway. He was shaking slightly, the blots of obvious concealer becoming evident to her trained eye. She'd had practice when it came to these kinds of things.

_Shaky breaths, entering and exiting her lungs so fast she almost didn't believe that the oxygen was being converted into carbon dioxide._

_Bruises marred her thirteen year-old body, barely developed; she had gotten her period only two months ago, yet, she had gotten beatings for the better part of seven years._

_Fucked up, huh?_

_It was almost sad she was an expert at covering the little reminders that she didn't own her body._

_On the other hand, Allan loved when she put makeup on his face, claiming she was a ‘beauty guru’; She didn’t know what the hell that even meant, but she was glad it served as a good memory for at least on other person._

_She remembered seeing the guilty look on her mother’s face when she handed her daughter the pale shade of concealer._

_“For your...” She never finished her sentence, and never would for her remaining years of miserable life, but Marinette saw the look in her eyes. They terrified, scared-for-her-daughter, guilty and yet barren look. All at once._

_She understood and nodded, grasping for the tube._

The purple-yellow bruise was barely visible on his cheek.

And at that moment she knew for sure.

I’m sorry, Timmy.

“He knows.” Batman’s head snapped directly to Tim to study the boy. He tried to step closer, but she was fast enough and grabbed his wrist.

“Stop, he won’t tell anyone. He’s trustworthy, figured it out on his own. Right, Timmy?” She widened her now visible bluebell eyes and he caught on, nodded desperately and started to explain.

“I-Uh, D-Dick showed me his quadruple s-somersault the night his parents died and-Uh- Only three people have been recorded to be able to do that, and two of them are dead.” He took a deep breath and continued.

“I recognized it on Robin a few years ago, and when...” He trailed off to catch his rapid breathing, an obvious sign of a panic attack.She grimaced and slowly approached.

“Can I touch you, Timmy?” He was hyperventilating, but the slight nod showed he could comprehend what she said. She blinked and slowly enveloped his smaller frame in her arms, careful not to put too much pressure on his trembling form.

“Would you like me to distract you?” He shook his head and she whispered an “Okay”. She started to rub his back but stopped when he flinched both in pain and fright. Marinette mentally cursed and loosened her hold slightly.

She closed her eyes and hummed into his neck, hoping the vibrations would calm him down and he’d be able to do something, anything, but she wasn’t going to let Batman interrogate him.

When she arose from her tear-stained bed the next day, she found Fu sitting on the edge.

“Have I ever told you how proud of you I am?” She blanched, trying to find the words to respond to something so...

Surprising. Natural. Unhesitated.

No one has ever said those words to her. She shook her head and felt tears spring to her eyes. Why was this woman being so nice to her? What had she done to deserve it?

“I’m sorry about that, Marinette. You are the only truly good person I’ve seen in a long time. I’ve seen you grow into such an amazing woman.”

“I love you.” Marinette gasped loudly and felt Fu’s arms close around her. The older woman stroked her back as she sobbed. And for once she knew what the woman was saying was true.

She’d never have to feel like what she once had again. She knew she belonged now, even if the world was chipping away around her, she knew Fu would welcome her home with welcome arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall.”
> 
> -F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby.
> 
> YEESH this chapter kinda SUCKEDDDD. Tell me what you think in the comments because I have to study for my math test!
> 
> Also I’m playing Batman:Arkham City rn and it SLAPS but idk how to get past the guys with thermal goggles. someone PLEASE HELPPPPP


	11. Chapter 11

"To soothe your nerves." Fu set the white China teacup in front of her and sat down in the rocking chair next to hers on the balcony.

It was chamomile. She nodded in thanks and slowly sipped the scalding hot beverage, careful not to burn her tongue too much.

She could do this. All she had to do was stroll into GA and grab the textbooks from her locker. To scurry carefully out of that damned school and never look back.

Like a coward.

She rocked back in her chair and looked out into the neatly trimmed bushes and swaying trees. The view would be a lot better if she hadn't had so much on her mind.

She hoped no one would see her. She hoped to God that if someone _did_ , it wouldn't be Lila Rossi.

There it was. The wall was stained with various dirts and mud that seemed too grotesque to be marring a prestigious private school, but it was like the day she remembered it.

_He looked too a little too mysterious to be considered a student at Gotham Academy, but there was Jason Todd, leaning against the dirty wall and puffing out carefully calculated rings of smoke from his mouth._

_If his mouth can do that then-_

_She gulped and felt the light blush she had on darken and spread down to her neck and under her uniform._

_The collar on his shirt was slightly messed up from the absence of the navy tie to hold it in place, showing off his defined collarbones._

_Dark-as-night bangs cast a shadow over his eyes, and if you looked close enough, you could see his hazel-blue eyes almost glowing from underneath all the hair._

_Eyes that roamed the courtyard before landing on her, standing in the middle of the walkway and staring stupidly at a smoking junior._

_They traveled their way down her body and wandered back up to her eyes, carrying a smoldering heat she couldn't quite decipher completely, but still caught the meaning of and turned an even darker shade of red._

_She squeaked and scurried into the huge doors on shaky legs._

She didn't notice when the tears started leaking from her eyes, unable to tear away from the dirty spot on the wall he would lean on every-so-often.

Marinette jolted out of her daze when someone passing by bumped into her back. She stumbled a little but caught herself before she could hit the ground and turned to the doors.

Yeah, she couldn't do this.

But she walked in anyway. Not much had changed since she had last step foot in these walls, but it wasn't surprising.

She felt like Jason was going to peek out the corner and tackle her in a hug and just talk to her.

That wouldn't happen, though. So her side remained cold and alone. Her arms remained untouched from Jason's unconscious arm rubs and hand holding.

Marinette opened her locker.

Inside was a multitude of objects that each took painstakingly long turns washing feelings of grief and sadness over her.

She bit down on her lip hard and squeezed her eyes shut.

_Please, come back. I need you._

A picture plastered on the wall of her locker.

She and Jason were squished together in a booth inside of a cheap diner grinning like idiots with their arms hooked around each other.

He had the kind of look on his face that told nearby people he was having the time of his life. Tiny wrinkles littered around his eye and the biggest grin she'd forgotten seeing on him.

Next to him, the Marinette in the photo was smiling happily and staring at Jason with an endearing look in her eyes.

Huh. She hadn’t even realized she’d ever looked at him like that.

Her thumb grazed over the laminated photo, brushing away a stray tear that seemed to have escaped from her eye.

She felt as if she was holding the whole world in her hand and, suddenly, five fingers wasn’t enough.

Her fingers trembled and her already shaky grip turned even shakier and lost grip of the photo. It fluttered down and plopped into the tiny puddle of tears just below her.

She knew this would happen. As she broke down into tears and crouched to the ground, fisting her hair and crying out silently; she knew the outcome.

She was just outside the door when someone called out to her. The sickly-sweet voice she had grown to despise and shudder at every chance her body got.

“Marinette?” Her spine involuntarily snapped straight and she stopped walking, tightening her grip of the bag in her hand.

Slowly, she turned her head around. “Lila.”

Lila tilted her head and straightened her navy jacket. “How are you?”

“Cut the crap.” Marinette slung the bag over her shoulder and crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow and giving her a disapproving look. (She still won’t ever be as good as Alfred.)

Lila sighed and gave her an apologetic look. “Look, I-I’m... sorry.” She whispered the last part so quietly Marinette almost didn’t believe she said it and gave the brunette an incredulous look.

“Y-you-“

“Shut up and let me talk.” Lila’s eyes flashed with annoyance and she picked at her nails.

“I haven’t always been... the nicest to you.” She glared when Marinette gave a disbelieving chuckle. “I-I was wrong to do that. You’re obviously grieving and I feel bad.” Lila furrowed her eyebrows, as if she was trying to make sense of her words.

“Jason was... not an object for me to keep to myself.” You never had him. “I’m sorry for, like, blackmailing you.” Lila grumbled.

Marinette almost burst out laughing.

Almost. She was so close. She grinned and another tear slipped down her cheek. Lila went wide-eyed.

“Holy fuck, what’s wrong with you? You’re crazy...” Lila Rossi turned and walked away, sparing one last weirded-out look over her shoulder.

Marinette bit her lip, but kept her smile as rivers of tears flowed down her face, bag forgotten and lost on the ground by her side.

It started to rain. The steady flow of water droplets splashing on and down her face as if the world was crying with her.

She was nothing without Jason. Lila couldn’t even apologize to her without mentioning him.

She screwed her eyes shut and whimpered a little. The light rain turned into a downpour, drenching her cloth jacket and hitting her body from every angle.

She opened her eyes. Nothing was visible to her except for the harsh rain beating down on the pavement.

She walked. Walked until she was she was standing stock-still and drenched in front of the big, white double doors. She rang the doorbell and hoped to God he was alone.

The door creaked open a bit, and she saw his ice-blue eyes. Once he caught sight of her short feminine figure, he swung the door opened and beckoned her in.

“Marinette? Why are you crying?”

Tim blanched at the sight of her crumpled face and closed the door behind her, delicately wrapping a hand around her wrist and leading her to one of the many pristine couches.

They both sat there while she calmed herself down. Tim rubbed at her back absentmindedly and gave her an understanding look.

God, it was so much better than pity.

She hiccuped and looked around, only now, after five minutes, taking in the scenery of the Drake manor.

It was as if a museum had up and parked itself in the manor. Everything was pristine; not a picture out of place or a single hair on the shiny wood floor.

The couches looked un-worn, like no one had ever sat on them; no one had ever lounged across one of them to talk to their family or to simply sit.

It all looked so... surreal. You’d never suspect anyone loved here unless you were actively aware someone had.

“Tim, where are your parents?” Tim flinched at the question and her eye twitched in irritation. If this poor boy’s parents ever stepped foot in Fu’s home again it was on sight.

_Motherfucker_.

“T-they left last night.” Wrong. Janet had been boasting to Fu about her trip to Peru a days before she left. That was two weeks ago.

Two weeks ago, when she saw the bruise on Tim’s cheek. She gritted her teeth and forced herself to nod when she caught a flicker of fear in Tim’s eye.

“You don’t have a nanny? Or babysitter?” Tim shook his head.

“I-they decided I didn’t need one. I’m a big bow now.” He looked up and smiled nervously, gulping at the horrified expression she knew she had on her face.

She gritted her teeth and pushed back the tears. “Too... big?” Her hands started to shake with unrelenting anger as she took in his small, almost malnourished-looking frame.

She knew he might be talking about age, but in that moment he looked about five years old.

She couldn’t let this sweet, poor boy live on his own like this any longer.

“You-you should stay with me and Fu.” Tim’s eyes widened comically, like he couldn’t believe what she was saying.

“...what?” She sighed.

“You should come stay with me and Fu.” She emphasized every word to let him know she wasn’t joking.

“I know you know I know.” She kneeled on the ground in front of him and gently took his hands.

“I’ve been through it too.” Tim gasped and his eyes watered.

“Y-You?” She nodded and rubbed her thumb over his knuckle like Jason used to do to calm her down after a panic attack.

“I-I has a scholarship at Gotham Academy.” She squeezed her eyes and willed herself to keep going. Not only for Tim, but herself.

She needed to tell someone. And if she was going to tell someone it had to benefit both parties.

Marinette needed to do this for herself, too.

“It was important I kept my grades up... or else he would punish me.” It wasn’t needed to state who. Tim knew who.

He gave a shaky sigh and urged her silently to keep going, squeezing her hands.

“Welcome home, Marinette.” Fu was washing the dishes, back turned to Marinette. It seemed such a domestic and simple scene to others, but it spoke thousands of words to the old woman, never having been able to have children of her own.

What Fu did not account for, when turning around to greet her ward further, was a little boy attached to her side.

Fu gulped. “Mari? Is this child yours?” Marinette sputtered and shook her head violently.

“This is Tim. Tim Drake.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “There is remedy for all things except death.” - Don Quixote, Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra.
> 
> Marinette will never get over Jason’s death. She may find peace with it or accept it, even when he’s alive, but she’ll never get over it. I thought this quote was exceptional.
> 
> Also... I cannot and I repeat CANNOT. Picture Tim without picturing Yoonbum from Killing Stalking. I am SORRY TO PAINT THAY PICTURE IN YOUR HEAD BUT I HAD TO TELL SOMEONEEEE


	12. Chapter 12

Tim snapped a picture of Batman traveling fluidly across the rooftop directly in front of the one he was dangling his legs over the edge of.

A few seconds later, followed Marinette, donned in her Ladybird costume with goggles flipped down for night-vision.

He grinned and snapped another shot, squinting with both eyes to make sure the picture of his sister looked good enough to show her.

It had been over two months since Marinette had rescued him from the damning walls of the Drake manor and opened up her own home to him, but he still couldn't believe his eyes at the sight of her and Fu every morning and night.

It was so surreal. He felt as if he was living in the wakes of a lucid dream, seeing, touching, but never really believing.

It was all going to end once his parents came home from Peru, inevitably. They would strip him of all the happiness and trust Marinette and Fu had helped him build just to continue to abuse and neglect him.

Everytime. Everytime he tried to talk, or even look in their direction, his father would...

And his heart dropped from the reminder, the remaining blood he still had in his face drains and he's left with trembling fists and painfully white knuckles.

He knew his breathing was erratic and his heart was palpitating, but he couldn't stop thinking, wondering, anticipating-

But then Marinette's voice popped up in his head. " _Breathe, Timmy. As long as you're here with me, he can do nothing to you, absolutely nothing."_ She said, as she would run a delicate hand over his scalp, the light scraping of her nails calming, soothing him to forsaken rest.

A thin line of doubt and worry marred his forehead. He ducked his head and resigned himself to standing up on shaky legs and retreating back to Fu's welcoming home to burrow into the warm sheets and forget.

Still, he lay awake in the depths of the night and shakes with a cold sweat coating the entire length of his body, remembering.

_Jack Drake stormed into the doorway, almost busting the door down by the hinges and glared hotly at his old son. He shouldn't be here right now. He and Janet should've left for Peru about now._

_Timothy jumped back from his placing on the bed and scrambled to hide the photos under his beige pillow case, matching the rest of the room in a mundane manner._

_"F-fath-"_

_"Don't call me your father, you piece of shit." Tim cowered and felt his breathing pick up again, only just have gotten it back to normal a few hours before that when Janet last stepped into the room._

_"Wh-"_

_"I thought I told you to get A's, Timothy." Jack whipped out a white packet and directed Tim's eyes to the big, fat B scribbled across the top, next to his name written in perfect cursive._

_Tim gulped and his face paled considerably. Jack narrowed his eyes and Tim could almost see the smoke pouring out of his ears._

_Uh, oh. He's more angry than usual._

_Jack stormed up to him and grabbed his wrist, twisting it painfully before yanking the child to him and giving him a hard slap on the face._

_Tim whimpered and a tremor ran through the small of his back all the way up to the back of his head, freezing him up._

_"When I come back, you've have better gotten your act together." Jack growls so lowly Tim thinks he's almost had a heart attack from the sheer anger and unspoken promise in his words._

_Jack leaves, and Tim is left shaking in a ball atop his wrinkled sheets, staring through blurry eyes at his purple-ringed wrist._

_Why, him?_

Tim awoke again at three in the morning. He sighed and ran a shaky hand through his damp bangs.

Nightmares like that had haunted him from the beginning of first grade and would continue to, no matter how much time had passed.

He would forever feel this way, a burden, a failure. All because of his parents; people he thought would love him unconditionally, but instead, didn't love him at all.

His lip trembled and he forced a deep breath. Tim removed the suffocating sheets from his body and tiptoed out of the room to where he heard Marinette and Fu's voices in the kitchen, his ankles cracking from having not used them in a while.

Maybe before Marinette went to bed, he could show her the pictures he had snapped a few hours before he got home-

"He's crazy, Fu! I-I don't know if I can do this, I-it's l-like I never even left!" Marinette's hiccups and distorted gasps echoed through the hallway.

Was she talking about him? He crouched on the floor and peaked around the corner, where Marinette's body was racking with sobs and Fu's arms were encased around the sixteen year old, soothing her.

Tim didn't think he was crazy, so who was Marinette talking about?

Fu started to turn her head back to the doorway.

He quickly jumped back out of view and pressed himself against the smooth wall.

"Shh, Marinette, you might wake Tim." Marinette ignored the woman and kept gasping harshly.

"I- I can't- he-he almost killed someone!" Okay, she was definitely not talking about Tim. Then who was she talking about?

"He's going through hard times, Marinette. He just lost his son." Oh.

They were talking about Bruce Wayne.

Batman almost killed somebody? That didn't sound like him.

He's doing this because of Jason.

Suddenly, Tim knew what to do.

Suddenly, he was standing in front of the Wayne manor, with his knuckles rapping softly on the giant doors.

Alfred Pennyworth slowly swung open the door and fixed him with a raised eyebrow. He gulped and smiled.

"Hello, Mr. Pennyworth. May I see Mr. Wayne?"

Pennyworth fixed him with a curious look but nodded and stepped out of the way, pulling the door wider so Tim could enter.

Tim fidgeted with his fingers and his neck prickled with metaphorical hot needles as Bruce, now out of his suit, stared down at him.

"No." Tim's head snapped up as he stared down the man with an incredulous expression.

"E- What?" He really meant to be more intimidating, he did, but this was Batman, and he was thirteen years old.

"I said no." His Batman growl shown through minutely, but it rumbled miles through Tims resolve.

Still, he could not give up.

He snapped his eyes towards the man's ice blue ones and turned on Janet Drake's glare.

"You will make me Robin." The slight raise of an eyebrow slipped through and Tim could see the curious, yet surprised look in Bruce's eyes.

"You need a Robin. Batman needs a Robin. You almost killed a man today." He powered through, ignoring the angry huff of air from the much taller man.

"Listen. I've got the brains, Mr. Wayne. I figured you out when I was eight.

"I've seen your frustration pour out of every punch you give to wrongdoers and thugs. You're bitter, mourning, sad." He narrowed his eyes, a vengeful tactic to show his determination and resolve he had learned from Janet.

-But he was shaking, they both knew it. But he was determined. They both knew that too.

"I can help you." Bruce looked away for a millisecond, only to come back with vengeful eyes, filled with strong emotion.

"No." Tim's jaw dropped open.

The son of Janet quickly composed himself once more.

"Yes, Mr. Wayne." Bruce swallowed his excess saliva and grunted.

"Fine."

Silence.

"Call me Bruce." Tim's pout broke out into a grin and he jumped excitedly before realizing just exactly who he was jumping excitedly in front of. He planted both his feet on the ground and smiled up at the older man.

"Thank you Mr.- Bruce." He corrected.  
  


Bruce nodded with a solemn look on his face. “Be careful, Tim.”

And skipped the hell out of the manor, because Bruce was scary and he was running on two hours of sleep and a whole lot of adrenaline.

He slowed down to a jog as he reached home.

Not the Drake manor, but home. Where his sister and mother were waiting.

Two months is nothing but a note of time in his head, but Marinette and Fu are forever in his heart.

Time means nothing to Tim when he’s with them. Not a damn day or week. He could spend forever solving puzzles and playing Go Fish with Marinette. He could sit forever on the quickly denting couch listening to Fu rant about the miraculous to Marinette, picking up bouts of information he never knew he needed to know.

He reached the door with a smile on his face and an unfamiliar warmth in his heart, but it was accepted all the same.

His smile twisted into an anxious expression when he saw Marinette and Fu.

How long had he been out?

Marinette tapped the shiny wooden floor with her socked feet and raised an eyebrow, much like the expression Fu had on next to her.

Tim swallowed thickly. “H-Hey...” his voice withered off at the end as he waved a little.

Marinette sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Care to tell us where you were?” He fidgeted, curling in on himself a little.

They were going to throw him out, weren’t they?

His head snapped up as he heard footsteps draw near, suddenly being wrapped in arms, a warm hand softly rubbing up and down his back.

“You should tell us next time.”

“We were worried, you were out for an hour.” Fu’s voice chimed in. He was shocked, to say that least, no one had ever noticed when he snuck out.

Tim swallowed again and uttered a few words.

“I’m... I’m Robin, now.”

Words could not describe the look of disbelief on Marinette’s face.

Said girl storms into the Wayne manor at six in the morning, barely sparing a greeting to Alfred, and slams open the door to Bruce’s study.

Bruce does not look surprised, nor pleased.

“You made my brother _Robin_?” At the lack of his response, she carried on.

“You made my _brother_ , ROBIN.” Her hands shook with a vigor she’d never experienced before and her face grew hot, hotter than it ever had. She wasn’t angry, no.

She was fucking furious.

“After my-my boyfriend dies because of Robin, you think it’s a good idea to make _my brother,_ Robin?” Bruce barely grunts.

She could feel exasperation and fury run down her back, all the way down her arms to her shaking hands. She clenched then and took a deep breath.

“I quit.” Bruce gave her a questioning look.

No, more like he was daring her to confirm that statement.

She smiled at his disbelief and stepped back toward the door, ready to leave.

“I’ll stay a few more months for Tim, but I quit, Bruce. You actually suck, you know that?” Bruce sighed and opened his mouth to speak, but she was already out the door.

Words couldn’t describe a slither of what she was feeling.

How _dare_ Bruce accept Tim’s request to be Robin? It was obvious Tim would stop at nothing, but Bruce had the power to decline.

He had the power to save Tim from the world he never needed to know.

Sure, she hadn't been in the game for long, but this was Gotham, home to a lot of fucked up people.

She’d been poisoned by Mad Hatter, kidnapped by Mr. Freeze, and seen the aftermath of a Professor Pyg massacre.

No, Tim didn’t need this at all, not when she still had nightmares about every single encounter with any Rogue she had ever met.

Once she was finally back at home, she held Tim’s hand, running her thumb lazily in circles on his palm.

“You don’t have to do this.” He didn’t look at her.

“You don’t have to leave, Marinette, but you’re doing it anyway.” She shook her head.

“I have to do it, Tim. You know that. The Lazarus Pit is a horrible, horrible thing.”

A few months came by, and she was saying goodbye to her brother. She looked at him, ignoring the bustling noise of the busy airport around them and really looked at him.

He had changed, obviously, he was less puny than before, something Bruce had changed drastically over the months. But he also looked so much happier.

There was a twinkle in his eye when he said goodbye to her, as if he knew it wouldn’t be the last time she would see him.

She smiled and hugged him, reveling in the warmth he exuded. “You won’t even notice I’m not there.”

She felt him chuckle. “For two years? I think I’ll notice.” She grimaced.

It was obviously going to take a long time to track down the Pits, and by the time those two years ended, she wouldn’t even have gone through half of them, but it was a start.

It was also a way to escape.

She couldn’t stay in Gotham, they both knew. Everytime she took her place on a gargoyle, she was reminded of him.

Jason would forever stay in her heart, but she wouldn’t stay in Gotham forever. She couldn’t.

So she trained extra, harder, faster. She knew what she needed to do to get out of there and she did it.

She was ready.

She hugged Fu one last time before turning away, tugging her luggage toward the security line.

“Marinette!” She stopped and turned around.

It was Dick. Quickly jogging towards her and then placing a hand on her shoulder when he reached her.

“Marinette, hey.” She gave him a small smile and nodded.

“Hey, Dick.” Dick took a deep breath and handed her a piece of paper.

She looked at him with a raised eyebrow, but took it and slipped it into her bag.

“My phone number.” He explained. “I’ll keep you updated on what happens in Gotham.” She nodded.

“Bye, Dick.” He nodded back and hugged her.

“Stay safe, Mari.” She blinked and he was gone. Marinette sighed and turned back to the security line, taking off her shoes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rushed the ending I know but JASON is coming back VERY SOON!!! I’m so excitedDDDd. The timeline in this chapter is so weird but he’s like *coming alive* and I will write about it, pinky promise.
> 
> Also, if you’re actually reading this note, I wanna explain some hypocrisy Marinette has exuded throughout this chapter. 
> 
> We all know Marinette demanded to work with Batman, right? Tim did the same thing, but suddenly it isn’t okay anymore? She’s got some real nerve getting mad at Bruce for letting Tim train for Robin when she’s done the same exact thing, demanding she be let on patrol with him.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOF I’m soo not sorry.

  
  


He gasped in what was not oxygen, but carbon dioxide and a mouthful of dirt.

It was suffocating and dark, wherever he was in the moment. He was hyper-aware of everything surrounding him. Distrusting and dark, some sort of a wooden box. Dirt under his fingernails and in between his ears. The violent pounding and ringing in his ears, forming an almost _too-much-to-bear_ migraine.  
  


His chest felt hollow, as if the air getting the him chose not to relieve him of the giant ache in his lungs. His heart beat rampant, palpitating with each passing second until he felt he was going to fall unconscious again from the sheer force of the pounding in his chest.

He itched and endured an uncomfortably eerie feeling, the grainy dirt creating a balm around his whole body, or what one could say was a body under loose terms.

The boy laying in that wooden box knew nothing but what he was doing in the moment. Which was absolutely nothing but barely _surviving_. He lay still in that wooden contraption, breathing through his atrophied lungs that hurt so much everytime they tried to rise and fall, pain bursting and flowing through his whole being.

A wave of unrelented panic shot up and down his body at the thought of being trapped in wherever he was at the moment. He needed to get out.

He tried so hard to remember, but his brain could not provide anything to remember of. He knew nothing of himself or his surroundings. Everything felt muddled in his brain and he could think of _fuck all—_

He needed to get out _now_.

He reached out weakly with his white-almost-blue tinted arm to grasp at the dusty lid. And pushed. Pushed with all his might, all he could bear and pushed.

He groaned weakly when the lid didn't budge and gasped again for blessed air, his chest barely expanding to accommodate the thin, stale air barely sputtering down his trachea.

Pushed harder and harder, frantically scratching at the fragile lid until it finally popped open and down went a mountain of mud and grass.

He finally gasped in oxygen, a wave of immense relief running down his body and his lungs feeling impossibly full of air. His violently shaking limbs propped him into a sitting position, his head sticking out of the ditch.

Where was he?

The air around him was cold and bit at his uncovered arms, having ripped the sleeves off in a haste to get out of the suffocating tomb. Strands of grimy hair popping out and blocking his field of limited vision. His eyelids felt heavy, as if someone was forcibly trying to push them shut. Still, he pulled himself out of the ditch slowly and looked at his surroundings.

A grubby stone, sitting at the foot of his ditch, engraved.

Ladybird perched herself on a neighboring mound of snow parallel to the cave where one of the four Lazarus Pits remained. The harsh snow of Switzerland continued to beat against her body, almost knocking her from her position and giving it away from the ninjas guarding the cave down below.

"Fuck. Fu never told me there were gonna be fucking ninjas." She did, but in that moment Marinette was finally responding to Allan, so she didn’t quite catch all of the information being spouted to her. She wasn’t quite focusing on the content of her text, rather the odd replies she was getting.

_b00kn3rd: Still out of the country, weirdo?_

_Weird Al: Haiti, this time. Thinking about dying my pit hair._

_b00kn3rd: your pit hair?_

_Weird Al: shit sorry, meant my head hair. I’ve got pits on the brain._

Funny.

_b00kn3rd: lol have to go, Fu’s lecturing on how green jello is bad for you_

_Weird Al: see ya_

It was weird, to say the least. Allan had always been an enigma, but he’d never been caught with something distracting him. He’d always had his eyes set forward and his goals reachable, visible from where he was standing. Never tripped up, and especially never texted with a free, empty mind, one that would allow mistakes.

Marinette was probably looking too deep into it. She sighed and shoved the frieght train of a thought away from her, quickly setting herself back into position.

She goes in, destroys the pit with her lucky charm, maybe mess up a few ninjas on the way, and then gets out.

Simple, right?

  
  


Ladybird felt a trickle of sweat run down the side of her face, disappearing under the high neck of her costume as she ducked, avoiding one of the ninjas sharp knives repeatedly slashing at her.

So, not simple. She winced at one of the knives coming from behind her, nicking her supposedly magical suit. _Yeah right_ , she rolled her eyes and focused on blocking a ninjas fist with her elbow, tucking herself in and rolling past the mob of disturbingly quiet assassins.

Ladybird took off in a sprint, her legs moving in a whirlwind to reach the cave and close its artificial doors with her signal jammer. The pounding of footsteps thundered behind her, to her horror, she realized they were getting closer by the passing second.

She gritted her teeth and propelled herself forward, focusing intently on the quickly closing doors of the spacious cave, she could see the glowing green of the pit, bubbling and smacking itself with loose and lazy waves. With a sliver left between her and the opening, she closed her eyes and hoped for her whole body to make it inside the doors, dropping herself to her knees and sliding in.

  
  


Ladybird gasped and sputtered for air, resting her hands on her knees. She’d made it inside, but the cavern looked suspiciously unguarded, now that she’d had a good look. She straightened back up and roved her eyes over the premises.

A barren stone chamber with matching stone steps, leading down to the main event. The Lazarus Pit. It’s murky green liquid almost looked toxic, and, well, it was. There was an almost opaque green steam climbing from the small round pool. It looked ethereal and at the same time, completely natural.

She reached her hand down to the black pouch at her hip and froze in shock when her hand grasped at nothing but the costume attached to her body.

Fuck. Her pouch was gone. The one item that could destroy the Lazarus pit was gone. Ladybird felt tears coming to her eyes and her hands shook in anger.

She couldn’t do one thing right?

“It looks like you’re in a predicament.” She gasped and whipped her head around. Looks like she hadn’t been alone. An assassin, standing just behind her, knife poised and ready to strike her with the slightest move.

The assassin was almost fair in color, from what she could see of his skin peeking out behind the dark black sleeves. His stance was almost perfect, except for the insistent tapping of his ring finger against the blade.

Tapping a familiar language. Morse Code.

HE’S ALWAYS WATCHING

She sucked in a lungful of air and forced herself to keep calm under the circumstance. Who was watching? What did they want from her?

She tap-clicked a response against her goggles, feigning a hair-fix.

WHO

But the assassin stopped tapping his blade, he straightened up and in a swift motion, grabbed her waist and pulled her flush against him, holding the sharp blade to the sliver of her exposed neck.

To where she could see him more closely. A puff of dirty blonde hair snakes out to meet her eyes, his light brown eyes staring at her intently, almost pleadingly.

Ladybird gasped as her eyes widened.

“ _Allan_!”

That was one and a half years ago. And, consequently, the only pit she hadn’t been able to destroy.

Allan had been trying to tell her something, something big, but he hadn’t been able to finish-

Allan nodded and removed the black veil from his nose. The warmth in her heart quickly turned cold when she realized just exactly what he was doing.

“Allan, this is Switzerland, not Haiti.” Allan let the slip of a chuckle come out of his mouth before he leaned in close, the knife cutting deeper into her skin, coaxing out a thin stream of blood from it as he whispered in her ear.

“You need to get out of here, now.” His voice dropped down to a deep gravelly tone before two things happened at once.

Two arrows happened at once, one at the knife cutting at her throat, and one from a different direction, straight into his back. She gasped in horror as a thick waterfall of blood poured out of his chest around the protruding arrow, the sharp clang of the knife falling to the stone bricks heard distantly in the back of her mind.

“Oh, God, Allan!” Ladybird’s hoarse voice cracked around the edges, and she pulled them both down to a kneel. He was fading fast, but she couldn’t pay attention to that right now. The heroine looked back up, searching for the assailant when she realized they were standing right in front of her.

“Talia Al-Ghul.” The woman smiled disturbingly when she heard her name.

Marinette had to admit the woman was quite beautiful, despite having fatally shot her best friend, currently bleeding out in front of her. The woman was tall, with tasteful olive skin in deep green robes that accentuated her toned body beautifully.

Fu had made her study all about the Al-Ghuls, on the off chance she would need to know how to fight or recognize them.

_Fat fucking chance, I’ll say._

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” Her name rolled smoothly off the woman’s tongue as she slowly slinked toward her, eyes roaming over her dirty black and red costume. Marinette flushed, suddenly self-aware of how disheveled she must look about now.

“You killed him.” Not a question, but Talia nodded and looked her straight in the eye. Marinette could feel the sweat drip down her face at the woman’s intense gaze.

She said nothing, except, “Necromancy is nothing worth your time,” Talia’s eyes dipped down to sneer at her best friend, softening a slither once they turned back to her. “You might find it in the past, rather than the future.”

Ladybird’s eyes studied Allan to find some sort of answer, before looking back up to answer the woman.

Talia was long gone, without a single wisp of air indicating her departure.

Marinette had left in a haste after the encounter, shook to the core and ready to craft a new item with the help of a little god to destroy the next pit.

But now that she thought about it, almost two years later, Talia’s statement hadn’t made any sense. Allan was dead, and Marinette hadn’t thought twice about communicating with the dead, and if she had, it hadn’t been about Allan.

She would’ve tried with Jason, who was dead.

Jason—who was dead.

“You might find it in the past, rather than the future.”

She gasped and reached for her phone, unlocking it with haste and dialing a number she’d memorized for moments like these.

“Marinette?” The groggy voice was full of sleep, and she winced.

“Sorry for waking you, Dick. I-how good are you at grave digging?” Dick made a choking noise, and she almost hangs up in regret. Her hands are shaking with anxiety, but she can’t backtrack now.

“I think Jason is alive.” A few seconds pass without answer, every single one of them drowning her spirits in ice cold fear-

“I think we should meet in person.” He hangs up, three beeps and the room goes silent. And she immediately books a flight from her hotel in France to Gotham City.

Marinette sat in the booth and took a deep breath. This specific booth was in the corner, away from all eyes but a good vantage point to see the whole small diner. Perfect for secret conversations about superheroes.

It was nerve-wracking to be in a city that held so many memories, but as bad as they had been, she felt at home, finally. Gotham was just as she remembered, dark and gloomy, but beautiful under the city lights.

She shook out of her thoughts when Dick walked in with an apprehensive tightness to his face, and when he spotted her, gave a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

She smiled back, barely, as he sat down in the booth chair across from her and rested his forearms on the white table.

He looked older, more aged than when she’d seen him two years ago, but then again, that’s what happens when you age. She was pretty sure she’d gone through what some would call a “glowup”, changing her frailness into muscle and growing out her hair. Not like she’d had the time to cut it, anyway.

“How are you?” Dick tried to make conversation, but she shook her head and skipped straight to the point.

“Dick, he’s alive. I know it.” Dicks face hardened, the tightness of his jaw making itself apparent as he shook his own head.

“You’re wrong.” His face was getting red, redder by the second as he gripped the edge of the booth table. Marinette softened in pity and she reached to hold his hand in her own.

“I know it’s hard to wrap your head around, but—“ Dick ripped his hand away from hers, cold air quickly filling its place as he shot up from his place.

“You’re wrong.” The shadows seemed to sympathize with him, covering the edges of his face and making him appear more old, aged. Dick glared at her as she shot up too, eyes pleading with him.

“Dick—“ He was thundering toward the glass door now, throwing it open with a force she’d never seen before, but followed in his steps, hoping for any possible way he might listen.

“Dick, please—“ He whipped around and gripped her outstretched wrist so hard she feared it might break, and stared her dead in the eye, the dark in his usual light blue chilling her to the bone.

“Don’t you dare ever say that again, or I’ll have you in Arkham.” Her eyes widened, the pain from the grip of her wrist in his hand forgotten by a pang in her heart of betrayal.

He broke off and his heavy steps travelled farther and farther until she could no longer hear them over the pounding of her heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “In a word, I was too cowardly to do what I knew to be right, as I had been too cowardly to avoid doing what I knew to be wrong.”
> 
> -Great Expectations, Charles Dickens.
> 
> Me: has an online math test.
> 
> Me: has an unfinished chapter.
> 
> Can you tell which one I chose to finish? That math test was hard as fuck. Thank you for your comments! I appreciate them SO MUCH!! I’m also going to explain the timeline of this chapter if you were confused:
> 
> Jason wakes up right after she leaves gotham, right?
> 
> Okay, a few months after that, she’s ready to destroy the pit at Switzerland, yada yada, Allan dies and reveals himself as a ninja yada yada.
> 
> Okay. A year and a half later after that, she remembers that scene about Talia al Ghul and figures out she wasn’t talking about allan, but Jason. Then she calls Dick and, well, he’s a ducking duck I hate him BUT DID YOU CATCH MY DRIFT ABOUT ARKHAM? After Bruce is stuck in the time stream, Dick threatens Arkham on Tim when he says he thinks Bruce is alive. Boom.
> 
> Okay, so I’m pretty sure it’s canon that Jason is catatonic in the hospital for a year, but I’m gonna disregard that and say he wasn’t, just for timelines sake.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette goes grave-digging.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NO MERCY
> 
> Warning: blood

Marinette found it in herself to lay low after that, despite the heavy pounding in her head, demanding her to _plead_ , _gather_ _evidence_ , _prove_ herself to Dick that Jason was alive. It was almost as if the two hemispheres of her brain were at war with one another and she couldn't decide which side she truly wanted to be on.

She couldn't even believe the inkling of the possibility that she was wrong anymore. She had marched to his neat grave and dug it up at the crack of midnight with trembling fingers, almost shaking too much to grip the handle of her shovel properly and dig. Once she hit wood, she scrambled to pry open the wooden casket, and alas, Jason Todd was not laying in his grave like he should.

There was obvious signs of disturbance that she could clearly make out through the haze of her blurry tears. Scratches on the bottom of the lid, dirt strewn and littered across the bottom of the casket. It took Marinette everything right then and there to not paint the grave with her whole GI tract.

"Jason..." Gone. Wherever his body was, it wasn't where it should be, laying down in his deathbed. Her fingers, splintered and bleeding from giving up the shovel and resorting to hand-digging, burned with every harsh breeze that swooped down to muddle her already shaky posture.

"Fuck, Jason, _where are you_?" Marinette whispered under her breath.

"So, I understand Tim is with the Teen Titans?" Marinette leaned back on the wooden porch chair, Fu sipping her tea quietly from right beside her.

The tea was a dark Oolong, coating the back of her tongue bitterly as it went down, almost as if someone told her that her mail got lost. Almost as if someone told her that her little brother went away to Star City without consulting her first.

Her adopted mother hummed and set the delicate China on the side table next to them. "Yes, for a few months now, actually."

She would've liked to know, but she wouldn't give him a reason to pull away from her further than he has physically. Tim wouldn't tell her something without good reason, she's sure of it.

"It's not like I'm his actual sister, right?" She chuckled, though it came out empty and broken.

Fu didn't answer, just peered at her from the corner of her eye. The older woman sighs, setting her cup down and facing Marinette from her chair. "You should go visit him." Marinette widened her eyes and gripped her teacup a little too hard.

"You sure he'd want that? He hasn't been answering many of my calls since I left. Maybe he's mad at me." Marinette stared at Fu, an earnest gleam in her eye.

"He is your brother, Marinette. He loves you. Go visit him." She sighed and nodded.

"I will." She stood, and indulged herself in one last calming gust of wind to ruffle her hair, before turning back to the front door.

Marinette smiled nervously, she standing awkwardly in the entryway of Titan's Tower, a bright blue gym bag Dick had gotten her before she left, slung over her shoulder.

—though it was quiet. _Too_ quiet for her little brother and his rowdy friends to be normal. She glanced at the walls for an indication of time, and felt herself freeze when she found one.

_11:36_.

Not too late, right? She heard teenagers tend to stay up 'till two A.M. these days, hanging out and partying. Or, in Tim's case, fighting supervillains and playing video games with his superhero friends.

Still, she flinched a little too much when her footsteps echoed louder than necessary as she walked up the stairs, receiving the same volume of deafening silence, even beside their rooms.

"Tim?" His name echoed bounds throughout the hallway, and, yet, no answer. It was almost like a graveyard.

_Not funny_. Though, Marinette chuckled nervously anyway and continued her journey to the heavy door. She knocked.

No answer.

"Tim, I know you aren't asleep. Don't you wanna see your sister?" Nothing. Not even a rustle of bedsheets or heavy breathing from his nightly training. No obnoxious groan that came from her brother when she woke him up too early. No excited greeting.

Marinette frowned. Was Fu wrong? Did Tim actually hate her?

She retreated from the door and dropped her bag next to it, turning around to knock on his best friend's door. "Kon? Are you in there?" She stepped back, incase Tim's freakishly strong best friend accidentally broke the door open and hit her in the face again.

No answer. Again. She sighed and swung open the door, walking in.

“Kon, what are you—“ Kon was not on his bed, sleeping like he should be, nor laying on the ground playing whatever raptured his attention on his gameboy. He was unconscious on the floor, arms sprawled around him, almost like he was reaching for something.

Marinette gripped the door handle and felt a swirl of doubt in her gut.

A loud thump sounded from the roof. Were they outside playing volleyball again? Marinette could've sworn she lectured them for at least half an hour about exercising at night and what it does to hormonal growth.

She stepped out of the room, and cautiously up the stairs that led to the roof. Marinette would do everything in her power not to be hit with a volleyball again from her impromptu visits over the years.

She tore the door open, and what she found was much, much worse than a vicious volleyball game.

Marinette gasped, eyes impossibly wide, a hand flying up to her chest to grab the heavy fabric on it tightly.

Blood. On the ground, splattered on the wall, seemingly everywhere she looked. It sent her breathing hard, eyes sliding from the blood on the walls and concrete—almost sinking in and staining the hard material— to the picture in the middle.

_(Blood._

_Her mother. On the ground. Several cuts around her body, but the one that drew Marinette's attention and kept it there was the knife in her stomach.)_

Tim, in his Robin costume, flailing and struggling under a man's hold—a taller, older man dressed as Robin—where the man on top of him gripped a bloody gun, poised and ready to shoot. Only, he was looking right at her.

Her whole body froze with an all too familiar feeling, her chest felt too tight, eyes blurred with salty tears. She couldn’t breathe—couldn’t make a noise, for her throat was clogged with fear.

She was such a _coward_. Standing there, frozen and terrified while her brother was being torn bloody on what he thought was his home, a place to relax with his friends.

The masked man wore black hair with a dangerous white streak in the midst of the deep abyss, his eyes covered with adomino mask to—what? Mock Tim? Jeer at him?

Kill him?

The man’s eyes were wide, almost taken aback to see her. He opened his mouth, closed it after a second.

“Marinette.” He breathed, lowly. His familiar voice crackled at the end, the hand that wasn’t holding the gun pulled loose and standing unnaturally away from his body, like he wanted to reach out to her.

That’s when it hit her.

Marinette could’ve ran to him, hugged him. She had known Jason was alive. He was living, breathing proof kneeling ten yards before her. He’s grown. Grown a lot since she had seen him before he died. His shoulders more broad, significantly taller, and his face more defined, the baby fat having melted away from...death.

A tear ran down her cheek. Slowly, she clenched her hands as to resist from running out to him. Marinette steeled herself and fixed him with the glare she learned from Batman.

“Get off of my brother.” Her insides hurt inexplicably, her heart in her throat almost begging her to yell, scream, anything at him, and a hollowness in her chest. On the outside, she was calm, cool, and angry, like Ladybird.

His eyes widened and darted down to Tim, unconscious and bleeding out from several cutsand open bruises beneath him; he recoiled fast, shooting up on wobbly feet and retreating to the edge of the rooftop.

More tears rolled down Marinette’s cheeks. To see her ex-boyfriend back from the dead. To see him with her own eyes after so long, it shook her. Shook her to witness him leaving just after coming back. She wanted to reach out a hand and touch him, clean the excess tears out of her eyes and study him for hours, and, yet, she tore her eyes away and ran to Tim. To what really matters.

Jason was not Jason Todd anymore. He was a cruel, evil person. Marinette does not know Jason the way she had.

  
  


She scrambled to pick her brother from the concrete, flinching at the wet-sounding noise that came with the action.

Tim was light. Too light in her arms, and he looked even smaller with the blood painted on him, face muddled with bruises and angry cuts, but the cut that sent her staggering down the stairs, almost tripping on her own feet and choking on her saliva, was the deep gash on his throat.

Marinette dropped him carefully on the bed with trembling arms and reached for the phone in her blue bag, blood standing the handles and fabric. The phone almost slipped out of her hand in her earnest to open the dial number.

“Miss Marinette? Are you aware of what time it is?” Marinette almost cried of relief when Alfred picked up, soothing voice cracklings over the phone line.

She choked back a sob, audibly, which striked a nerve in the old man, apparently, because she heard rustling in the background. “Alfred, I’m sorry, but Tim—he’s been assaulted.”

Alfred swallowed. “I’ll prepare a bed for him. Get here as fast as you can.”

Marinette gripped onto Tim’s hand, face scrunched up in a worried stare as her eyes roamed all the stitches and bandages wrapped around him. It made him look _so_ —

It made him look how _she_ used to look. And that brought a harsh burn to her palpitating heart. She almost couldn’t believe it. After Jason had witnessed her mother die—his _own_ mother die from drug abuse—she would’ve thought he’d never kill, never take the choice of someone’s life in his own hands and choose to end it.

“Do you know who did it?” Bruce’s voice was unusually remorseful; Marinette lifted her head up to look at him with tears gathering at the edge of her eyes, and nodded.

“Yeah.” She croaked. Bruce nodded, indication for her to continue speaking whenever she was ready.

Marinette swallowed the saliva in her throat. She swallowed again, her throat tightening with every second until it itches and burned.

“It’s Jason. He’s alive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I hate him for himself, but despise him for the memories he revives.”
> 
> Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights.
> 
> I thought that quote was really cool for this chapter!
> 
> Question: once I finish this fic—we’re getting really close!—would you guys be interested in a longfic jasonette Catgirl AU?

**Author's Note:**

> He’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.
> 
> -Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights


End file.
